


The Chase

by hanareader



Series: DEDICATION [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bittersweet Ending, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Slow Burn, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 12:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15885675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanareader/pseuds/hanareader
Summary: Kurapika will have his revenge, even if it means following Chrollo to the ends of the earth. Chrollo, for some reason, sees his dedication as a sign of loyalty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my first fic for this fandom, and an attempt at shipping these two because this is one hard ship to sail. I’m pretty much making up ways to break nen conditions, so the below may not be accurate. I’m more familiar with Naruto so I apologize for any inconsistencies in advance, I should’ve lurked here longer but I couldn’t wait to write this story!
> 
> (Also, I wanted to say that this fic was greatly inspired by bonbonpich's [ The Sun Also Shines at Night](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3207335/1/The-Sun-Also-Shines-at-Night) back on ff.net. I honestly wouldn't have shipped KuroKura if it wasn't for that story. So thank you to that author. Do enjoy.)

He heard it clink on a Thursday afternoon. Kurapika was busy directing calls for Nostrad, now that most of his staff have been given leave, and it was up to him to catch up on the remaining work. He had his lunch beside him on the table, forgotten, and his pen in hand when he heard it – heard the sound of his own chains pierce through his mind, like ice melting in a glass.

Kurapika suddenly stood, his chair scraping the wooden floor. Nostrad flinched upwards at the sudden movement, his eyes wide and wild, and his frame small and shivering in his chair.

The mafia leader honestly had been like this, shifty and on the edge, ever since his daughter had lost her abilities and his status within the underground began falling. He was broken and Kurapika pitied him, that his fall from power trashed the single-minded ambition that got him such a prominent name within the mafia in the first place. Kurapika thought it was fitting, for someone who used their own kids in such a violent environment, but even he could see that the turn of events was debilitating and making his relationship with his daughter worse. He thought he could convince the falling noble that at least his daughter was alive unlike the victims of the auction, but Nostrad refused to acknowledge the few things he still had. His eyes were vacant and unseeing only on what he had lost.

The man reminded him unfortunately, a lot like himself.

Kurapika realized the delicate company he was with and bowed slightly in regret. “Sorry.”

Nostrad tried to clear his throat.

“No need to apologize. Young people like you have plenty of energy…” He tried to make small talk, but his voice had a permanent shake to it now, and its power as his superior was void. “What is it?” he asked.

Kurapika frowned in thought. The first thing that came to mind was that his nen conditions were being lifted, that Chrollo and his Spiders had managed to find someone with the ability to remove the curse he had placed on their leader and set him free. If so, the Troupe might be after him for vengeance, and Neon and his employer at risk as a result. But Kurapika checked himself and his immediate surroundings, found nothing and still felt his nen chains in place. He felt the phantom chain linking his pinky finger to their leader’s heart and knew that nothing was broken. Only slightly askew.

It was such a weird, miniscule change, he could almost think it was his imagination, like back when he first started training. Didn’t he hear his chains all the time then? Only now his chains shifted once without his influence and it shocked him into a stand.

He must not have been getting much rest lately, it wouldn’t do for him to get as paranoid as his employer.

Kurapika carefully made himself return to his seat. “I’m alright, Nostrad-san.”

“Is that so? Has something happened? I don’t understand this nen thing, but then again I’ve got you to answer for that.”

“No; we are not under attack at the moment.”

At least, not physically, Kurapika thought. But internally he was struggling, and frantic to find the answer, if not the problem in the first place.

He wondered: Did the man change the conditions themselves? No, Kurapika doubted, there was no way he could do that. Although it was the only loophole Kurapika could imagine, one where rather than removing the nen conditions he’s placed entirely, Chrollo had someone change it to something more agreeable. He knew the man could find a nen shifter sooner than a nen exorcist, or even a conjurer like himself, who could place a condition that overrode his own. But even so, such a thing should warrant a drastic change, more than a single quiet _‘clink’_ – something that’ll demand a steep expense from Chrollo, deeper than the loss of his nen.

At the thought, Kurapika narrowed his eyes.

Then was the man like him – determined, reckless – willing to place his life on the line for the goals he needed to achieve? Kurapika scoffed in dark humor, he didn’t think Chrollo Lucifer had the conviction, much less any feeling beyond himself, to expend himself so needlessly and in vain of the spiders that died before him. No; he knew Chrollo wanted the easy way out, knew the man wanted to win with all the cards in hand, and wouldn’t settle for less than his full nen and strength.

The selfishness of the man’s character was comforting in a way, consistent, and it helped him breathe a little, quieting his own fears and wild speculations. Kurapika’s hatred infused through his chains too well to override so easily. Chrollo would prefer some other outlet to counteract it. It was just a clink. But Kurapika could only strike out these guesses so long as he was under Nostrad’s charge, the mafioso’s stare getting more and more uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing, truly, I just remembered something.”

“Is it something I need to know?” the man persisted nervously.

“No,” Kurapika tried to placate his anxiety. “Just a personal thing. Something I thought was finished a long while back.”

Nostrad nodded mindlessly as if he understood, but his head shaking was empty in feeling, a courtesy to pretend like he was listening to their conversation. He was too focused on his own past. “Well if it’s an idea to get my daughter’s fortune telling back-”

Kurapika didn’t deign to remind him, again, that it had nothing to do with him. He ignored his employer and returned his attention to other, more important things. Like his chains clinking. Kurapika activated the nen chains on his hands while his eyes turned red under his contacts. He observed his hand as if he was inspecting his nails, eyes narrowed onto his pinky finger.

Nothing. Nothing seemed any different. Kurapika checked the phantom chain extending from his pinky, the only one connected to Chrollo, and it remained as taut as ever, attached to the man’s heart and restricting his nen. The only difference was that now the direction of the chain was slightly adrift, angled to the right, as if his convictions have strayed from the straight path of his vengeance. Or as if his chains were locked onto someone else.

He paused. Could Chrollo have done that? Transferred his judgement onto another individual? Kurapika blinked down at his hands with red in his eyes.

No. He couldn’t believe that was possible. His hatred was only directed towards him and no one else, the judgement chain wouldn’t bind so firmly unless bound to Chrollo. Kurapika frowned in thought, and Nostrad didn’t even notice his bodyguard wasn’t even listening. His eyes slowly trailed the wayward direction of his chain and he blinked.

He could follow where the chain lead.

Kurapika cocked his head as his eyes stumbled onto where the phantom chain disappeared, the silver of it graying and fading into the wall of Nostrad’s office space. Past the space altogether, ideally leading him to Chrollo. It wasn’t exactly his plan of choice, as he intended to focus himself on collecting his clan’s eyes, and not on old revenge. It was what he promised Gon and Killua (and Leorio and Melody) that he would stick to. Kurapika turned his hand before himself, the chain rings gleaming from the strength of his nen. He found the voices of his friends quieting in his mind, their words a low, intelligible murmur as the light of his judgement chain caught in his eyes.

…

He had long told himself he wouldn’t give in to those feelings of anger from his youth. He had promised Gon and Killua. But something beckoned him forward, something irresistible and damning, and he cursed his own weakness. It was a combination of curiosity, his greatest fears coming to life, and something dark and twisted that he thought he buried, revived anew.

_Chrollo Lucifer…_

His old fantasies of revenge flashed red before his eyes. The chain user watched as his nen collected in his hands, and heard the sound of his chains drop lightly. He allowed the ball weight to hover over the map on his table. The dowsing chain was a comfortable, sorely missed weight, and his nen flowed easily. He was compelled to check because of his personal convictions, he told himself – as a civic duty he couldn’t stand to knowingly let a criminal go. Kurapika had wanted to be sure that his convictions have held their place, that Chrollo’s nen remained sealed, and that righteous justice was served, even though admittedly the practice occupied his mind too much lately. The real problem was the dirty feeling as his muscles tensed in anticipation, intent on the act, he wanted to return Chrollo to his place with his own two hands.

The fine line between the righteous justice he was going to “check” and his need for personal vendetta blurred before him and blinded him. Kurapika felt its clammy grip tear him away from the main objective of collecting his clan’s eyes. He was aware that he still wanted of his revenge, but no longer could he say that it was for his people, but for himself.

In the back of his eyes he saw his friends, Gon and Killua, smiling, playing around as kids should in spite of the dangers of the expansive Hunter world around them, and Kurapika knew he was being selfish. His eyes followed the trajectory of the ball chain as it hovered over Saffran only two cities away from where he and his employer were currently staying. Kurapika retracted his nen and let his chains dissipate, while his eyes returned to their calmer brown gaze. He reminded himself that he wasn’t going to end up like the man he was only a year ago – wild, angry, red eyes alight and obsessed with obtaining his revenge. He had promised his friends that he could control himself – and he would keep to that promise while fulfilling his duty to the clan.

…

He didn’t bother asking for leave. Kurapika didn’t intend for this temporary detraction to take much of his time anyway, he expected to encounter the man undetected, reinforce his seal, and disappear quietly before the criminal could notice. He believed his employer could do okay without him for a few days, just long enough to get the job done, and then he would be back and everything here would be the same. Neon would remain motionless in bed under her coma and Nostrad as paranoid as usual, but he knew the Mafioso wouldn’t suspect him. Maybe Kurapika would be threatened for the impromptu vacation, but more importantly he wouldn’t be fired, Nostrad no longer held any real authority for firing, and he knew they both knew the man couldn’t survive long without him. The mafia would feel terrified of the thought of Kurapika leaving him like all his other guards have, devastated, maybe even pissed, but he knew the moment he returned he would be welcomed back with open arms and even more empty promises of payment and bonuses. Kurapika was indifferent to the image, to the way Nostrad was unhealthily dependent on him, so long as he got his contacts into the mafia all the same.

Kurapika got off the train in Saffran quickly, quietly, avoiding the crowds and keeping from drawing attention to himself. There was no question as to what he would find here, what other acquaintances Chrollo may have made other than his Troupe, as well as to whether he was currently walking into a trap. He moved swiftly into the first coffee shop he could find near the station, and purchased a cup in order to also ask for a map of the city. With a drink in his hand and a rolled up map in the other, Kurapika made his way to an empty table, inconspicuous and casual.

Kurapika was glad for his contacted lenses as he laid the map over his lap, using his dowsing chain with the cup in hand. He made sure to give off a flash of En before entering the shop, long enough to get an understanding of his immediate surroundings. Although he hadn’t spotted any nen users he wasn’t taking any chances knowing the way the Troupe leader functioned, and how calculating of a leader he was. Kurapika wouldn’t underestimate a man even without his nen, and he wouldn’t be stuck in a draw this time around. He would win, finally, and without a doubt.

The dowsing chain moved slowly at first, lazily, searching and swaying like it was a chain of hypnosis. It moved like this for the few seconds before it lashed out wildly and out of control. Kurapika was shocked, enough to gasp aloud and spill some of his drink. He thought Chrollo must have done something to keep him from finding him, and he feared for a moment before he saw that within the chaos there was a direction. The ball chain focused strongly at the edge of the city, north of the map, and Kurapika felt its intent vibrating with power. His dowsing chain was going crazy if only because soon it would be made useless – Chrollo was quickly on the move, and his chains were telling him he was going off map.

Kurapika cursed, folded the map away and threw his coffee in the trash. Just as soon as he got here Chrollo was rapidly leaving, and Kurapika couldn’t tell if that was mere coincidence or if he had accidentally revealed himself. He didn’t have a choice however. If the man was moving, and at a speed enough to disrupt the focus of his chains, then Kurapika would have to follow him.

…

Between Saffran and the following city was a border of expansive farmland. Flat, organized, agricultural crop circles filled with tall stalks of wheat and corn was his view for miles. Kurapika could see what was before him easily, too easily, and he thought that if Chrollo had laid a trap for him here, it wasn’t to be a good one, as there were little places to hide out here in the country. In this kind of open space, there were no houses. The air was chilly and a good portion of the land barren for the season, in line waiting to be replanted with fertilizer and natural nutrients. Kurapika blinked at the smell of manure and inhaled fresh country air, the last place he’d expect Chrollo to run would be here.

“You came.”

Having concluded that there were no traps around him, Kurapika switched his attention away from his absurd surroundings. He focused his eyes on the man before him, guardedly red at the edges of his contacts and he spoke, his voice cold.

“What did you do.”

Chrollo instantly smiled that charming smile of his, and appeared taken aback as if innocent. “Nothing. I just thought you’d never come. I’m relieved.”

He glared at the pure crap coming out of his mouth. “Clearly, you were waiting for me. Is that why you placed yourself on the outskirts of the city, to force my hand?”

“I missed you. I wanted to see you again.”

Kurapika hissed. “Don’t play with me. Although it would pain me to abuse a man who can’t defend himself, I do not consider myself above the notion.” Kurapika clenched his fists and gritted his teeth to keep himself from lashing out bitingly. He wanted to demand the answers for his questions but the man before him was triumphant, smirking, and well aware of the turmoil that he caused him. Smugly bathing in it.

“Is that so? Nothing’s stopping you now.” Chrollo motioned to the countryside around them.

Kurapika ignored his comment. “Why were you running? Did you know I was in the city?”

“Not at all.” Chrollo smiled at him. His countenance was at peace, and he wasn’t the least bit threatened by him.

His face pissed Kurapika off.

“I can tell if you’re lying!” Kurapika whipped out his right hand, activating his dowsing chain for the third time. Chrollo seemed to smile even wider at his actions, if that was even possible, he was weirdly excited to see his nen in action.

“Your nen hasn’t returned.”

“No, it’s hasn’t.” Chrollo placed his hands in his pockets casually. “You don’t have much to worry about, your restrictions are still held in place. I haven’t seen my Spiders at all.”

He wasn’t lying.

“I heard my chains only two days ago. I saw my judgement lie askew. Something’s different.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t act surprised, I know you’ve done something to it. Have you found a nen user that has done something to your conditions? Answer me, yes or no.”

Chrollo’s eyes seemed to light up with understanding. They seemed to glint over with interest. “So you can’t particularly make me tell the truth, but you can determine yes or no responses.”

Kurapika growled. “This isn’t about me, answer the question!”

The man paused in thought just to be annoying.

“Yes.”

Kurapika watched as his ball chain never wavered under Chrollo’s voice.

“Was this nen individual found in Saffran, and worked on your conditions exactly two days ago?”

“Yes,” Chrollo responded easily, and was unfazed by the questioning. “Would you like me to tell you her name? I’d be happy to inform you all about it, unless you’d rather have me answer yes or no responses.”

“I would never trust whatever answer you gave.”

“Ah, then that’s unfortunate.” Chrollo seemed amused at him, looking down at him like he was a child who didn’t know anything. He found his wariness funny, even cute. “I’m being perfectly innocent.”

When the ball chain refused to move, Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched.

Chrollo smiled.

“What did you do?” he demanded, and returned his hand stiffly to his side. There was no way he could find out what he did without straight asking him, and he made a note that yes or no answers could confirm the truth of his responses later. “Since you want to be so forthcoming, answer me.”

Chrollo shrugged. “I had someone place a condition in response to your judgement chain.” He looked at him curiously, and waited to see his reaction. His eyes were dark and considering, and his head cocked to the side as he observed him. “An extension, so to speak. If the conditions are fulfilled, your nen restriction will be released and I will be reunited with my Spiders again.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t know this was happening.”

“I didn’t expect you to come.”

“Are you stupid? Like hell I would let you walk free.” Kurapika turned his face away as he rolled his eyes. Chrollo blinked at him.

He smiled.

“Is that so? Would you like to know what the conditions are? I’d be glad to tell you.”

“You could never fulfill them.”

Chrollo hummed. “You’re right. Technically I would need a third party, only someone with enough nen could override it. Since you’ve sealed my nen I could not help myself.”

Kurapika scoffed. “Then you’ve wasted your time. That could never work, my hatred for you is impossible to overwrite. You should know, even nen users with large stamina deposits at their disposal don’t bother with vendettas.”

Chrollo shrugged. “Then you have nothing to worry about,” he commented.

His casual-ness unnerved him.

“No one else can override my own judgement but me.” Kurapika said mostly to himself, and inside he felt a little empty. He was pissed, but not at Chrollo, he was incited by something else he couldn’t name. Kurapika frowned under his bangs, he didn’t know what he had expected, but he felt like he wasted his time in coming here. The man before him had done nothing, stood only a few paces away with no weapon in sight, and Kurapika had spent his adrenaline being defensive for no reason.

Chrollo was only looking at him, patiently waiting for a return of his full attention. Once he got it, the man brightened.

“You’re right.”

Kurapika suddenly felt uncomfortable, at his eyes and his sight and his smile, unnerved at how he can make himself, a murderer, uncannily warm-looking and genuinely happy to see him. But the expression was also a deceptive one, a knowing smile, like he was hiding something.

“So will you?” he offered.

Kurapika was going to kill this nen-less man, honor be damned.


	2. Chapter 2

He was so pissed, he actually left him there.

Kurapika had made an about turn and deserted the other man in the middle of the countryside. He internally berated himself at what a waste of his time this was. It was already late and instead of finding a place for the night, he had rushed his way to address a Chrollo that wasn’t getting anywhere at all, the man remaining docile under the nen restrictions he had in place. ‘Docile’ being the interim word here, Kurapika wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that the man was actually innocent. No; Chrollo was a criminal through and through, even though currently his body language was slow and non-threatening, and he spoke pleasantly warm, easygoing, and cordial with him.

The man was almost normal, it made Kurapika look like the unreasonable one.

He had acted so surprised to see him, with his face open in amazement and gray eyes wide and blinking as he took his presence in. He caught the man in casual wear, of slacks and an untucked dress shirt, looking less like the notorious, all-black fur-coat gang leader and more like your average civilian. Chrollo was off minding his own non-nen related business and Kurapika had just _interrupted_ him, but the only one bothered by such a reversal was himself. It felt like Chrollo was less concerned about his nen than he was, and the claims that he was obsessed with his revenge were starting to become clearer…

The moon had begun to come out. The chill of the night deepened for the worse, causing him shiver and walk quicker. Kurapika made tight small steps furiously across the concrete, as he was aiming for an old motel he had passed. He scoured for the entrance like a man on a mission and Kurapika twitched an eyebrow at the idea beginning to form in his mind. He didn't want to think it.

Chrollo Lucifer. Even after a year with no nen he never approached him, because the man had been able to move on in somewhere he hadn’t. Maybe even couldn’t.

He paused at the double front doors. He tightened his grip over the handles. His grip was straining the metal of the old building, making it groan and creak in complaint. His hands turned a pale white that was visible in the dark, and suddenly Kurapika let go.

He breathed once, twice, exactly like Melody had told him, he exhaled a puff of chilly air before walking in normally.

Kurapika would have been upset that he had worried over nothing, but he knew that that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the reason he felt his fists clench until his knuckles whitened and the blood of his hands go cold. No; something else was wrong and Kurapika just didn’t know it, looking at the gall of the murderer’s face only subtly tickled him of the fact, niggling in the back of his mind and making his eyes itch. Terribly. Chrollo’s calm front with a show of his hands pseudo-casually stuffed in pockets more than pissed him off on principle, but the fact that the man wasn’t even the least bit upset after a year without his nen… bothered him.

Because Chrollo Lucifer wasn’t any different. He was the same man as the one he saw in Yorkshin. If his judgement was aiming for true, contrite repentance, or (he rolled his eyes) god forbid maybe even rehabilitation for the Spider leader, then his intentions have failed dramatically. The man was even more blasé than he remembered in the fortunately limited time he’s had the luxury of his presence. He was calmer at the loss of his nen, Kurapika gritted his teeth to think it, he was more at peace. He was, dare he say, happier.

_'While you have only gotten more miserable.'_

Kurapika thought he felt his eyes turn red. He nearly bit his cheek in at this rate. The woman checking him in was quick to hand him his key card, wisely cutting herself off in the middle of explaining the motel’s facilities. He didn’t need them. He trudged to find his room.

On the other hand, where Chrollo had taken what had happened to him and his team in stride, further supporting the image of himself as the calm, rational leader he was, Kurapika had gotten complacent. Comfortable. He should’ve been preparing himself amply for the criminals. He had become possessive of his success and fearful of any change. Like he was now. Kurapika paced in a room he’s squeezed in last minute, slamming the cheap door behind him. He could feel his hands twitch as his chains activated and deactivated themselves.

God, he was so paranoid. He shouldn’t have come here. He would’ve been more at peace unknowing what had just transpired. But now that he’s here even the littlest worries whisper sharply in the back of his mind as he made himself zip out of his coat. Kurapika forced himself to take a cold shower, to shock him out of his thoughts and get him to breathe more deeply. The water chilled him to his bones. The air after made his skin prickle. He hoped the cold would smother his anger with it. He made himself change, get settled, tuck himself in and forcefully shut his eyes for bed.

(But the voices there didn’t stop. They told him to ‘ _follow’_ , to ‘ _kill him’_ , to ‘ _win’_ to which Kurapika promptly turned over under his covers. He’d like to tell himself that it’s his family’s voices pushing him, his dowsing chain guiding him the ‘correct’ direction forward, but there’s no one in the room but himself.)

…

“You’re following me.”

Chrollo had found him first, before Kurapika could buy himself another map again. He must have been residing close to the entrance of the town, since he had just arrived here.

But more importantly, he’s not on the run after their meet. He’s not escaping. He’s deliberately seeking him out, making conversation. Kurapika didn’t know yet what to make of that.

“You’re a murderous criminal.”

“Ah. Shalnark had told me earlier. You applied as a Black list Hunter, specifically to hunt my Spiders.”

He glared. “I don’t need a reason to explain myself, thanks to your notorious history.”

“But it’s your job, isn’t it?”

Kurapika refused to answer him and he raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“I was only wondering why you’re suddenly here. Back again.”

“And I don’t need to tell you a thing,” Kurapika spat, stuffing the map back and trudging away from the checkout. The man had just saved himself the expense and time and nen energy looking for him again, though he didn’t know why that only made him more irritated. He had wanted to pursue the other hidden from notice, with the least amount of interaction he could get away with but that luxury of an option was already taken from him. It seemed as if chance was against him, and worse, Chrollo was interested in his company openly.

The Spider leader followed him. Kurapika had to sit himself down on some random bench within the plaza-mall space to get him to stop. He didn’t know how far the man would follow.

Chrollo stood in his view, towering over him whilst in his seat. He was even paler with his frame lit against the artificial in-lighting. The contrast of casual clothes against his skin spited Kurapika, and suddenly he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Chrollo otherwise looked down at him consideringly. “Would you like to sit somewhere more personal? This bench isn’t very conducive for face-to-face conversation.”

He refused to look up at him. His voice was curt. “Why are you following me?”

“I could ask you that first,” Chrollo raised an eyebrow at his tone, and his further fall into vehemence. The man seemed to wait for him to look up before realizing Kurapika was being deliberately unresponsive, and he sat right next to him. “I was guessing that since you’re here you would like to talk. Unless I was wrong.”

His tone darkened. “I’m not here to make light conversation with someone like you.”

“Is that so? That’s too bad.” Chrollo relaxed and spread himself comfortably in his seat. Kurapika could hear the man shift beside him. “I would like to talk to you.”

“Please shut up.”

“You were hoping to track my movements undetected, I’m guessing? You could still do so anyway, I don’t mind.”

Kurapika hated the nonchalance in his voice. “And I don’t care to hear your opinion on the matter.”

“But I was right, wasn’t I?”

His lips went thin. Of course, Chrollo noticed.

“Ah. Sorry for messing your plans.”

Kurapika turned and glared.

“What do you have to apologize for? It’s not like you care. This works exactly in your favor. You were probably looking for someone to fulfill your nen conditions and now knowing that I’m in pursuit-”

“Actually, I happened upon you by mere chance, honestly. I didn’t think you’d come back.” Chrollo raised an eyebrow at his vehemence, and Kurapika felt stupid. He had spoke too much. “If I knew you were so obsessed with your revenge I probably could have done this sooner,” he added.

Kurapika was blind to all else but one word. “Obsessed?!”

Chrollo looked at him. He paused to think before speaking, to mull over the appropriate words to say and Kurapika nearly growled at him for being so patronizing, as if he was talking around a ticking time bomb.

“Sorry. I was only wondering.” Chrollo mused lightly – conversationally – unthreatened by the grip he held on the bench arm rest or the way his nen flared in threat and he knew the man could feel it even with his restrictions. He was unbothered by his pursuit, even welcomed it. “You’ve never followed me this past year, despite the fact that I’m a suspicious criminal as you say. Without my nen you could have pursued me, or even reported me to the police.”

At that moment, Kurapika did feel a pang of guilt at his words. He thought of Gon and Killua and his promise not to pursue his revenge. He felt slightly sick to his stomach, ashamed and self-conscious only a little, not nearly enough to stop himself now, and with no regret. He shook his head of it.

He spoke with finality. “I refuse to let you find a nen exorcist.”

“You mean like before? You must’ve known I was searching for one this whole time.”

“You’ve done something to my judgement this time around…” Kurapika narrowed his eyes at the man, and the way he shrugged casually at his current words. “Not that it means anything, as you must have realized. I don’t believe that you’ll succeed. But I’m cautious by nature and not taking any chances.”

“Paranoid, much?”

“Is it really paranoia? I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, you are a murderer.”

The man was silent before his response. He felt vindicated, triumphant if only for the moment.

“A year is a long time…” Chrollo started slowly, and his voice went soft in inflection. The man looked off into the distance as if nostalgic, though Kurapika knew they shared the same uninspiring view of the public leisurely shopping before them, of a complementary indoor fountain and a far-off mall food court. He stared back at the man and witnessed as he sighed with an emotion Kurapika refused to acknowledge, ignoring the glazed look in his eyes as the man was lost in memory, possibly of his spiders.

Kurapika averted his face away. The Kuruta didn’t respect his loss, couldn’t beyond the fact that it was a life he had taken with his own hands. That was all and he didn’t care. If the Spider leader was still in mourning then they would have at least one thing in common, he thought darkly. The man would get no sympathy from him.

His voice was light and conversational, like he was giving friendly advice. “Don’t you think you should’ve been over your revenge by now?” he mused aloud.

Kurapika’s breath suddenly stilled.

It felt like he had turned to him at a dying pace, his reactions moving through sludge. Kurapika blinked and his eyes colored red. Incredulity shocked his face like an open book, his mind processing as if time slowed down and he couldn’t compute the sensory input he was just hearing.

Chrollo breathed indifference like it was his middle name, and the sheer insensitivity of the man-

“I will never “get over" my revenge, I could never forget!”

He stood up in his fury and Chrollo didn’t even blink. He wanted to distance himself from him, look his reactions in the face. But the man was doubly unfazed by his show of emotion.

The man's gaze was heavily lidded and lazily observing. “Is that why you came here? To remind yourself this?”

“ _No_.” Kurapika’s blood chilled. His eyes glowed. “I don’t need to remind myself of anything, the horrors you’ve committed have been imprinted in my dreams. I came here to keep people like you in line, where you damn well belong.”

Chrollo shrugged. “So. You want me to stay like this, no nen, complacent…” he numbered it off on long, piano fingers, though Kurapika would’ve liked to add a lot more to the ‘list’. He narrowed his eyes at him, thinking he could add the rest of his cursed spiders with him too. “Fine. You’ve accomplished what you wished for. But does it make you feel any better?”

“I won’t be at peace until you’re dead.”

“You’re afraid of me.”

“Like hell I am.”

“You won’t rest until I’m dead…” Chrollo repeated his words idly and looked off from his gaze. Kurapika wished he would get to the point. “You’ll always be like this, paranoid and obsessed. I’m surprised you’ve put up with such feelings for so long. Why don’t you just kill me?”

“I’m not so flippant with life like you.”

“You’ve had a year to think about it.”

Kurapika glared at him. He looked long and considering, his eyebrows furrowed at the casualness the man talked of over his own life, and Chrollo just stared back. He was genuinely curious, open to his response. Kurapika felt his eyes deactivate and return to their normal brown. He took a step back and looked away from the other’s waiting gaze.

“You know I can’t.”

Chrollo blinked twice in surprise.

Kurapika tisked at having to explain himself. At this overall ridiculous situation. “Don’t look so surprised. Do you think my judgement restrains on one end only? It’s only so effective so long as I keep my end of the deal. I promised to return you safely so long as your nen is restricted. If I expect my judgement to hold-”

“You can’t kill me.” Chrollo finished for him, his voice rich with curiosity and vested interest. He leaned his body forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His stare was deep and unwavering. Chrollo hummed to himself in thought. “But you didn’t place a chain towards yourself.”

“No,” Kurapika responded. He figured it was harmless to tell him this, as the Spider leader couldn’t override it anyway. “I acted as both judge and plaintiff. But as judge I must remain balanced and neutral. In placing a condition on you I had to sacrifice a condition on myself. I gave up my chance to kill you, so long as you remained like this.”

“And where was my consent?”

The man actually sounded hurt.

Kurapika gave him a look. Chrollo smiled back brightly, innocently. He made a point to shut him down. “Not applicable. The judgement may have been placed on you but I had that Spider woman speak on your behalf.” He looked down on him coolly and huffed a short breath. He scoffed. “That’s why you could never remove the nen yourself, you were never involved in the first place.”

Chrollo smiled wide. “I understand. That makes sense,” his eyes gleamed.

Kurapika narrowed his eyes down on him.

“What’s so funny?”

Chrollo shrugged lightly. He seemed happy to hear him, too happy for a man learning that he was never an agent in his own punishment. He could never help himself. Chrollo was ecstatic, or what looked like excitement for him, light in realizing that the only help he could get in removing his restrictions was in the Spider he was restricted from ever contacting again in the first place. The man seemed to enjoy watching him think hard with bright gray eyes, he followed the crease in his brow as Kurapika frowned in confusion, irritated at his weirdly joyous reaction. What was wrong with him? What was he so happy about? Chrollo must have known something of what he had told him already… and simply made him say it aloud. He was proud of his responses.

And Kurapika wanted to remove that infuriating smile off of him. “Answer me!”

He hummed, annoyingly calm in the face of his anger. “You were right, I was never involved. But you were there, no?”

Kurapika froze suddenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chrollo seemed to have waited all this time for this question. He smiled brightly up at him. “I mean, not all is lost. I may not be able to contact my Spiders but there is no limit for me to see you.”

Kurapika’s eyebrows twitched.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“I figured it out. The only way I can regain my nen is through you.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. “You really think I’ve come to some change of heart? That I would agree to release your nen restriction?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Before he could make another outburst, Chrollo continued seriously. His words were measured. “You’ve said it yourself. That you can’t attack me with intent for fear of breaking your own judgement. Yet neither can you be at peace while I’m still alive. Are you satisfied with me without my nen, does that make you feel safe?”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“No. But you’re afraid of change.” Chrollo watched him carefully for his reaction. He spoke his words pointedly directed at him. “You’re afraid that after enough time you will lose both: the nen restrictions on myself and the desire to kill me. You’re tired of being in limbo and not being able to do anything about it…” He rose from his seat smoothly and Kurapika took a step back. Dammit. He had to look up at him now, and the Kuruta glared.

Chrollo smiled at seeing his reaction. He looked like a crossroads demon – no, the devil himself – before him. His eyes were bright with a glint of promise. “Why don’t you end this between us now? Wouldn’t you like to give it a shot?” He joked lightly and his lips curled even wider. He seemed to see right through him. “Maybe you’ll succeed this time, none of your friends are nearby to slow you down. See how fast I recover my nen, I might not be able to save myself in time, if you’re lucky.”

“Shut up!” Kurapika’s eyes fired red and he heard the chains on his hands activate. They slinked and chimed and rang against each other in a cacophony, moving solely from the intent in his nen, like slithering snakes, they moved alive and with a conscious of their own. He backed another step with caution. Kurapika promptly forced himself to ‘ _calm_ _down’_ , taking deep breaths in and out. He blew out air shakily. If the man was trying to provoke him into attacking and thus breaking his conditions then it was working.

_He couldn’t-_

Chrollo shrugged and walked smoothly past him. His shoulder brushed him coldly. Kurapika inhaled and exhaled and kept his face forward. “I’m only concerned for your mental health. You shouldn’t bottle up your feelings like this.”

“This is ludicrous,” Kurapika cursed sharply. He moved at a brisk, unrelenting pace away from him, before he could snap. Chrollo noticed his direction and made to follow.

“Stop following me!”

“If I leave you’d get concerned enough and begin to trail my movements. I might as well save you the trouble.”

Kurapika turned abruptly. He didn’t dare admit he was right. “Bait me one more time and I won’t be held accountable for the consequences. I may not be able to kill you but that doesn’t mean I can control myself from anything less than death…” He directed his words with a pointed finger, warning the man to behave. He gave a long, telling glare.

Chrollo raised an eyebrow. “You’d torture a defenseless man?”

“I don’t know what I will do,” Kurapika threatened darkly, honestly. At this rate he wouldn’t give himself the credit. He was slowly losing grip of his basic sense of ethicality. “But I suggest you not push me and find out. I want to maintain myself in public.”

Chrollo blinked at him before nodding and taking his words in stride. He motioned his head behind them. “I suggested talking somewhere more private.”

Kurapika took a glance back. “A café?”

“Why not?” the man countered.

He didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of being seen so casually with him. He didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “What more do we have to say to each other?” He glared.

“You could currently go back to whatever you were doing.” Chrollo shrugged and made his way over, ignoring the blatant confusion on his face. Kurapika tried to school himself. “Right now, I’m hungry. I need coffee. I figured you’d want to stay a little and make sure I ‘fall in line’.”

Kurapika grit his teeth and hated the ease with which he could dictate his actions. He hated being so transparent.

He was already walking with gusto and called back to him. “Either way it’s fine by me,” he waved once, before entering the establishment. The heavy glass door clicked softly behind him. Kurapika let his eyes follow the man before he could only be seen by a vague darkened shape behind thick glass, standing as just another customer in line. He frowned and he stood there quite uselessly before sighing to himself, regretting the choices he’s made that got him to his current position. Kurapika shook his head of it. He let his eyes fall and his chains disappear quietly. The man was unfortunately right and there would be no point in delaying the inevitable. He would make a note to contact Nostrad later, to tell him that he may be a while in returning. Just long enough to be sure, to figure something out and how to address this… He promised himself that it won’t be long.

Kurapika followed.


	3. Chapter 3

Black eyes. Black hair. Pale skin. For someone on his own he didn’t look as if he traveled much, he looked as though coffee shops were all that he deigned to frequent, a needed caffeine fix and a relatively normal interaction before returning to the shadows. His skin was too pale for someone on the move, almost translucent, eerie, like a creature of the deep or a vampire. Despite this, he somehow managed to look like he belonged. But the café lighting struck against him poorly, Kurapika would even say _unfortunately_ , in a way that didn’t help his case. If Chrollo was of the opinion that this meeting was in any way amiable, if he thought ordering a cup of coffee and a cloying smelling sweets pastry would make him a human being, he was dead wrong. Kurapika knew exactly who he was too well to lower his guard. He wouldn’t end up like his employer.

On the other hand, Chrollo calmly sipped at his cup that he decided to order in-house, and Kurapika sat across from him, marveling at the position he found himself in, watching in slight horror as his actions became familiar, regular. Maybe he was overreacting a bit much.

“You want something to order?” Chrollo mistook his staring for hunger.

Kurapika didn’t want this horribly growing image of them to appear even remotely friendly – or more than it was already fast becoming. “No.”

“It’s alright,” Chrollo added for his comfort. He seemed to return his look with a calm and easy patience. “I don’t mind paying.”

“That’s-” Kurapika started and spluttered, and just couldn’t help but shake his head in confusion. His face was slack open, eyes wide, bemused. “That’s almost hilarious.”

“What, you think I don’t pay for things?”

He exhaled audibly. Slowly. His hands twitched as he set them carefully balanced and folded on his lap. “I think you and your Troupe believe themselves to be above paying in general.”

Chrollo seemed to smile behind the lip of his cup. “You’re close,” he offered.

Kurapika figured that if the man was watching and waiting for a return response, with a timely pause holding his gaze with dark eyes, he’d give him what he needed to hear. That if he wanted to foster godawful conversation between them, there was no better time.

Kurapika growled, his voice swift and scathing. “Then what? You took everything at last year’s auction, including the money for the fake items you sold. Your Troupe hasn’t stopped since then. They’ve continued grand heists across the country despite your condition, accumulating only more and more stolen wealth.” Chrollo seemed to smile even wider at his words and Kurapika wanted to punch that pleased look on his face, like he was proud of his Troupe’s actions. “You want to know what I think? I think you and your people find a cheap thrill in stealing, only living for the next hit. You see the world as yours to take, to ravage and enjoy at your disposal.” Kurapika looked at Chrollo from across the short table between them with a cold, brown gaze. “But you don’t realize how base you fall, how your pursuit of material desires makes of you, scavenging off of other people’s wealth like animals.”

Chrollo _grinned_.

“Ouch.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “What, did that hit close?”

The man across from him shrugged. “I’m fairly impressed by how little you think of us. That wasn’t the effect I had intended to impart.”

Kurapika twitched bodily. “‘Intended to impart?’ Pray tell, what did you intend to impart, killing and stealing everything left behind?” he glowered in warning.

“I steal for a reason.”

“God forbid.” Kurapika swore.

Chrollo actually looked confused. “What?”

“Please don’t tell me. You steal… with a message?” The idea was sickening.

“I’m not a kind of Robin Hood if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Kurapika exhaled despite himself.

“But you’re taking this better than I thought.”

He glared upwards sharply.

“Truly, I’m pleasantly surprised. You’re more conversation than I expected.” Chrollo said as he sipped once again and pushed his cup in between them. The motion had caught his eye, Kurapika regretted, and it was as smoothly unremarkable as it was confounding.

He frowned at his words, recognizing a certain truth to them, and was similarly surprised at the amount he was talking. “It’s not like I want to be here,” he said, a little uncomfortable.

“But you are,” Chrollo reminded almost cheerfully.

Kurapika looked up at the man, following the curve of his face, watching the light glint in his eyes. “Ah. You’ve got me. I can’t leave now.” Chrollo blinked at him but he knew the action was meditated, an act of blank confusion and falsely innocent bewilderment. The man dared to cock his head. “This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You’d only run if you knew I’d follow.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s infuriating.”

“Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, technically there is little I can do to keep you here,” Chrollo said casually, his words artificially light. He was offering if only for the sake of conceding power to him, as if Kurapika was so small of a man to feel satisfied by this show of submission. He was offering an option that Kurapika knew intellectually he had. Kurapika could get up and leave right now, abandon the man to his pursuits and focus on his clan’s eyes. He could be free. But he also knew that he wouldn’t take the bait.

“Don’t insult me,” his voice was low.

“Sorry.”

“Shut up.”

The man did.

Watching him actually remain silent somehow made Kurapika even more pissed.

He was doing it again. He was acting meek, conceding to him as if the Kurta would ever see him as any less dangerous, as if he didn’t already know that he could overpower this nenless man. Reverse psychology at its finest. He wanted to leave but hearing Chrollo suggest it as an option prickled a well of pettiness in his throat, itching and climbing, making him bite the inside of his cheek and turn his face away. He felt his own spite chain him.

“You’re going to find a nen remover,” he said with finality.

Chrollo hummed noncommittally.

“I’m going to stop you before you can do that.”

Chrollo shrugged.

“If you run I will hunt you down. That will be reason enough to condemn you.”

“Okay.”

“‘ _Okay’_?”

Chrollo smiled. “Great. Wonderful, even. Fine by me. But if I do something you don’t like… what will you do with me?” He rested a cheek on a loose fist, elbows on the table, eyes dangerous, intelligent and sharp on him even as his body went lax.

The way he watched him in turn was unnerving, though it was only fair since Kurapika narrowed his gaze.

“I don’t think you want to know.”

His words were casual. “So you don’t know.”

Kurapika stood abruptly, and his chair screeched nails.

“Don’t tempt me!”

He suddenly stood and Chrollo gave a start, abandoning the hyper casual relaxed look to quickly move to balance his cup from tipping. He caught the glass barely, even though they both knew that as an S-class criminal he could move faster. He blew on his hands as his leftover coffee spilled on his fingers, like a child.

“You didn’t have to shove the table. I thought we were having a civilized discussion.”

Kurapika stilled.

He had wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, he had intended to share _nothing_ , because it was clear to him that his words would lay to waste and that the man before him was far from open, far from redemption. He had planned to keep his distance, just in case the man would use anything he had to say against him, but it was the mild-mannered response that enraged him, the casual clothes and café - conversational atmosphere, the way his long-sleeved dress shirt stained with a spot of coffee on the cuff. Chrollo quickly dabbed away at the minor irrelevant thing and Kurapika seared like a fire across his skin, eyes red and crackling with the nen energy as his chains made themselves known.

His powerlessness was the break. It made all the difference. Finally. Here was the opportunity – him sitting there so! without running, seated and openly staring up at him that made him want to scream everything that he was feeling, tell him all the pain that HE committed against him-

It was the lack of nen that did it.

The words ripped out of his throat, like opening Pandora’s box.

“‘Civilized?!’ Do you actually consider yourself in any way civilized? After what you’ve done to my clan, you and your Troupe are bloodthirsty, primitive Vikings! You’re-” His eyes flashed at the bit.

Chrollo didn’t allow him the satisfaction to finish.

“Is that what you think of me and my Troupe? As mindless killling savages?” Chrollo moved to stand, he moved carefully, slow and like a practiced predator, he was delicate with his hands. He leaned forward on the table, nearer and too close while Kurapika tightened his fists to his sides. He breathed. At this range he could see the red rings around his pupils and the man smiled. “I can personally ensure you that I walked into Lukso Province with my organization, methodically, with clear awareness and full intent.” Air blew in and out of his mouth, harshly, rapidly, and Chrollo seemed to whisper. “I wanted your clan’s eyes and I got them. They were beautiful. I doubt primitive Vikings held similar understandings of true beauty.”

A beat.

Before Chrollo could pull himself away ( _he_ was the one with nen-enhanced speed here), before he could ever possibly stop to think, to compose, to stop himself – _never_ – Kurapika fisted his chained knuckles and struck him.

…

Of course, they were kicked out of the coffee shop after that.

…

He should have had more restraint. He should consider where they were in public. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t help himself. It felt like hitting the nenless man was never enough, and the chain rings on his fingers ground against each other like walnuts, making a low, crackling, impatient sound. Or was that his knuckles. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t think. It sounded like the cracked wooden door to the anger in his heart, groaning and creaking with the strain of wanting to kill this man, held back by two little rusty hinges.

_Gon. Killua._

But by the gods, he itched to hit him again.

“You… You…” He struggled to speak, to embody the sheer restraint he was suffering.

Chrollo on the other hand, sounded bored. “You should compose yourself as a man of your station, Blacklist Hunter. You got us kicked out of the coffee shop.”

He broke. “I should kill you!”

“That’s what I said.” Chrollo brushed himself off, wiping dust off his shoulders from when Kurapika shoved him into the shop’s complementary bookshelf. He didn’t fight back the entire time he was through with him. Instead, the man straightened his dress shirt like it was nothing, standing straight with a composure that pissed Kurapika off. He looked down at him. “You cling too closely to your advantages at the expense of achieving your goals. In order to succeed, sometimes you have to take risks. Don’t be afraid to let go of your judgement chain, you’ve had a year to learn more about nen and to improve your skills. You might get me yet.” He turned and began to walk away.

Kurapika unconsciously moved to follow.

“Shut up! Stop baiting me! I’m not going to fall for your tricks,” Kurapika panted in his anger, and tried to regain control of himself. He breathed, knowing that he was letting this criminal get to him, dimly recognizing that somehow he was losing. In the fogs of the anger swirling in his brain he was failing somewhere. The other man didn’t have to lift a finger to fight back, to utterly devastate him. All he had to do was speak.

“Don’t you dare say another word!” He threatened and he warned though it felt like ceding a concession. He was admitting that Chrollo had the power in this interaction, he was pointing at his strengths. He was becoming the man he had promised Gon and Killua that he would not be. Kurapika was so sure of himself in coming here but he had underestimated just how well Chrollo Lucifer knew of his triggers and how deftly the man could piss him off. Dictate his actions. Make him lose control of himself. Kurapika exhaled shakily, slowly (desperately, as if the air could swell him with the nen energy to maintain himself, compose himself and pull his pieces back together) and even though he knew he was losing in this verbal war he couldn’t stop fighting back.

His voice trembled.

“I know. I know that I have the advantage so long as you can’t see your precious Spiders for the rest of your miserable life. Your nen restriction is just an added measure to keep you from seriously harming other folk. I may not have killed the Spider head but I separated it and I know that now it’s only a matter of time. Some insects can live without their head for weeks but eventually… they will die.”

His eyes glowed red and wavered in its intensity. Oscillating colors, pulsating its redness like a flashing stop sign, they reduced in brightness until he could return to a controlled brown gaze. He closed them. He breathed.

“One day your spiders won’t wait for you. They’ll give up on you. As you are now you’re utterly useless to them,” he spoke coldly.

Chrollo huffed a breath.

“I should hope that what you say comes true.” Chrollo commented quietly and seemed to nod to himself. He was calmly unperturbed. His voice went soft. “I wish and hoped that they moved on. Unlike you.”

Kurapika flinched and started and hitched his breath in anger. He fisted his hands and his eyes flamed but he couldn’t say anything.

“Ah. I said that aloud.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think.”

The man sounded bored. “Is that so? Then what are you getting angry for? You should ignore my words then, the words of a criminal.”

Kurapika countered quickly. “You’re wrong. You’re worse than a criminal. You’re the devil,” he calmed himself, just barely, but not because the man asked him to. He was going to do so anyway, for himself. “I should ignore your existence entirely as I don’t want to be tempted into killing you.”

Chrollo paused. He stopped at the corner of the curb, waiting with the traffic, interrupting the busy threads of people walking around them. They were in front of a crosswalk now, the light of the walk symbol catching the corner of his sight, surprising him with how far they were from the café, from the mall plaza, how far he’s followed and _why did they stop?_ Kurapika turned to look at the other man. Chrollo was looking at him, and the Kuruta was hyperaware of the traffic pole behind him, the yellow push signal at his back.

“I’m not going out of my way to make you angry,” he said.

Kurapika rose up. “And yet, you’re pretty skilled at getting a rise out of me,” he glared.

Chrollo blinked at him in consideration. “Hm. If you can’t control yourself then that’s not any fault of mine. You’re obsessed with your revenge, that’s why you’re here and that will be your downfall. You shouldn’t have come here.” Within the same beat, he smoothly returned his gaze forward. Chrollo continued walking.

Kurapika suddenly realized.

“Where are you going?” he stepped after him.

“Sleep.” The Spider leader aired lazily, and he couldn’t help but glare at his back, feel jilted at the sheer nonchalance.

“I’m not done with you.”

Chrollo just shrugged.

Kurapika was consciously aware as he felt himself trudge after him. His movements were weighted and heavy and searing (damning, he thought) steps on white concrete felt like coals branding the soles of his feet. He felt like he was making a grave mistake. Like a moth to a fire, he knew he was caught, trapped, and drawn, leading himself to certain death.

“Did you hear me? I’m not letting you find a nen exorcist,” he repeated lamely, and when Chrollo walked faster he hurried to catch up.

“I heard you the first time,” he said with a hint of tried exhaustion, and Kurapika felt slightly satisfied.

He should scold himself for being so childish.

“Then why-”

Chrollo veered to him. His black eyes were large and unblinking. Wide and absorbing everything about him, from the way he flinched at the sudden appraisal, to his discomfort at the developing thoughts in his mind of being a stalker, of how he was going to stop this man from regaining his nen, and _what the hell was he even looking at?_

“Usually I don’t bother with hotels.”

_What?_

“Although you clearly prefer to label me as a greedy criminal, I’m not one for common luxuries. I’d rather rest along the outskirts of the city for a temporary reprieve, abandoned warehouses and the like, to get away from the noise. Would you be okay with that?”

Kurapika tried to process. “What? No,” he shook his head and took a step back.

“Then?”

He blinked rapidly in succession, in confusion. His voice was short and direct. “I’m not following. What are you asking?”

“Where are you going to stay?”

His thoughts were slow to the uptake, blank and white and soundless nothing in his mind. What? What was he asking? Kurapika was belatedly horrified by the turn of the conversation and the words currently coming out of his mouth. “You don’t… borrow a room?”

Chrollo seemed amused. His lip curled upwards and his voice was rich with warmth. “No; I’m afraid I don’t borrow a room.”

Kurapika colored. He pursed his lip and averted his face. His brow furrowed deeply. “Figures. I’m sure it’s only fitting that a criminal hide.”

Chrollo looked at him thoughtfully and shrugged. “Mm. There are less witnesses. Less opportunity for the authorities to pursue.”

“So you admit,” he said, a bit lackluster.

_What the hell…_

The man nodded. “Though, there is no longer a bounty on me from the mafia, and this city’s criminal justice system is quite lacking. I’d have no problems renting a room, even in my own name.”

Kurapika blustered. “Are you asking me?”

Chrollo blinked at him like he was stupid.

"-aren’t you coming?”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spiders are arachnids


	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t know how he got here.

He wasn’t cognizant of his actions as he keyed his card into the door, watching with dull eyes as the light flashed from red to green, from closed to open. Kurapika walked in like a zombie, emptily, mindlessly, and for once his mind was quiet and he was stuck to articulate, slow and still reeling from what had just happened. His face was blank and his eyes were unblinking, quietly absorbing in the hotel room without favoring any specific detail. He wasn’t mad. He was tired. He was so confused. Chrollo had taken the room down across from him.

What?

As if his situation couldn’t get any more random, (any worse, Kurapika’d like to think) the man had waved him good night, though it was only half past three. Hardly sleeping hours, much less dark out, but Chrollo Lucifer clearly found hilarity in his own mock show of formality, he had a close sense of what was good manners and an even closer sense of the fact that he would see him again tomorrow: the salutation was an unspoken promise. Kurapika frowned and he furrowed his brow at his shoes, each step forward in his hotel room (that he himself thought too upscale for his tastes) was a weighted decision, heavy, controlled, and out of his hands. He felt like he was trapped and forced into being here, though admittedly that may just be him projecting onto someone else.

Kurapika had taken the time off from his duties, used his dowsing chain to locate the Spider leader, and rushed here of his own volition. He stayed a night in Saffran and returned back. Even if he tried, even if he closed his eyes, he couldn’t tell himself that he was being manipulated.

He had made (rented) his bed, and he would have to sleep in it.

Kurapika removed his wallet and key card from his pockets, placing them on a nearby nightstand. He straightened tall and rubbed at his eyes. Being in the vicinity of his greatest mortal enemy had exhausted him, both mentally and physically. He could feel the strain of his eyes give out as they’ve leashed their anger in bursts, often, in succession, and spiking so high the hot rush of nen seared the sides of his temples. It burned. Kurapika thought he could get so enraged his eyeballs would bulge right out of their sockets. He wished that happened, he wanted to explode, he wanted to show something visceral, physical – anything – but seeing that man again, hearing him speak and watching him walk away and himself not doing a damn thing.

Not leaving.

Kurapika had better things to do than to suffer this. He should be collecting his clan’s eyes. Instead he was voluntarily chained to a nenless man, stifled by the fearful possibility of what Chrollo could regain.  

He was afraid of him, though he would never admit it to the man.

Kurapika toed off his shoes, hung his coat. He was stalling. He was distracting himself, moving slowly in the small room as if the little actions he had to complete in settling in (‘little’ being an understatement, the man didn’t bother bringing extra clothing to stop Chrollo, he had rushed here unprepared for the long haul, and intended to reseal the man and be done with it by nightfall) couldn’t occupy his mind enough. Kurapika knew at this rate he’d need to buy clothes, he’d need luggage, though the thought rankled him. He wrinkled his nose and frowned to himself, but there was no other way around it.

He was going to stop this man from regaining his nen. This was something he could do. No matter how much he should want to return to what he was doing before, he couldn’t help but to think it, this was the most definitive action he’s taken in _months_.

There was very little headway made into retrieving his clan’s eyes. He had been making no progress. Technically, he hated to admit it, barring his contract, he had nothing to come back to.

After Neon lost her abilities, Nostrad lost the name he made in the underground. Kurapika was a little resentful, of the deadweight he’s become, the stagnant position he’s held as a dying man’s bodyguard, only for the useless contacts he’s barely grasped left in the mafia. The Kurta had been managing everything left, barely holding on by the threads while his employer lamented spending the last of his fortune on the pair of Scarlet Eyes. Some days Kurapika couldn’t bear hearing the same bitter-filled spiel, the repugnance Nostrad held for the pair that ‘cursed’ him and his daughter, brought upon his fall, as the man ordered him to find the item and regain his fortune by selling the thing off again. He was going to find his clan’s eyes anyway, but not like this, not when it hurt him so much.

The only thing to stop him now then, (barely, clinging onto the dregs of his mind) was the memory of his friends. And they weren’t here. Only Chrollo.

Kurapika decided that staying in the empty room was clearly not good for the direction his mind was going, (terribly, in circles, cycling into nothingness until he could feel his temples flare up again) but he had just taken off his shoes and he couldn’t bear to put them back on. He couldn’t stand his sudden bout of wishy-washy-ness that it seemed the man could reduce him to, his indecision only tempered by the times of quick, instinctual action (reckless, his friends would call him) like in initially coming here. Only dampened in times of clarity like the give of Chrollo’s cheek under his right hook. Only that made sense, made him feel good even as he was in turmoil with himself, made him feel confident like he was making the right choice. Kurapika looked down at his hand, clenched and unclenched his fist as if he could reimagine the phantom skin.

(But he couldn’t feel the same satisfaction without a dose of shame attached to it. The calm and open brown eyes coming from Gon, the silence of Leorio’s deliberately averted gaze. Killua would read him too well, and Melody would be too understanding, too forgiving, too _enabling_ ; his friends wouldn’t begrudge him of his revenge. They would let him, support him in every decision he makes.)

If there was anything left that stayed the violence in his heart and in his two hands, it’s the thought that he would be loved no matter what he committed onto the man next door. No matter what decision he made. If he decided he wanted to finally move on and end it…

 _Gods,_ Kurapika ran a hand through his hair, gripping his scalp, laying back on his bed as he glared up at the ceiling. He was feeling overwhelmed as he was acting it, and Kurapika laid a palm at his forehead to check his temperature. Nothing. He may have activated his eyes too many times in conjunction lately, but he was still in questionably level health, he was still cognizant. Kurapika closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he blinked, he furrowed when the light refused to catch up to his brain, he kept trying to make sense of the dotted ceiling he remembered above him before he realized it was too dark to discern a thing. It was already night.

Kurapika started with a jump, heart pounding at the realization that he slept so peacefully while his greatest enemy was only two rooms by. His blood thrummed and raced in his veins as he turned over, reached for his phone. 7:13. Three hours. Kurapika calmed only a notch, and frowned.

He had expected to be more diligent, more wary for himself, and that it wasn’t good to be cocky over a nenless man. He had expected to be attacked in his sleep, though just as much as he couldn’t kill Chrollo, Chrollo couldn’t kill him. His rage would end him. That didn’t mean the man couldn’t do worse. Kurapika’s earlier threat of torture flashed through his mind and he raised his eyes, narrowing at the hotel room door.

If he wasn’t going to retaliate, (if he wasn’t vengeful, bitter, _like him_ ) then what the hell was the other man thinking?

…

Kurapika found himself in yet another ridiculous situation. He was sitting, blinking, staring down at his plate and at himself, before shifting his gaze across the table to another set meal, its owner having similarly capitalized on the hotel’s free continental breakfast. Chrollo wasn’t paying him mind, he suspected he was deliberately ignoring his gaze, the man was reading a _book_ as he ate. The Spider leader had chosen to sit at his table. And now he was reading, not looking, not speaking anything to him. Kurapika felt himself twitch.  

“A little rude to sit at someone’s table uninvited,” he said pointedly, and his utensils clanked harsh against his plate as he placed them down.

Chrollo looked up from his book, blinked twice, recovered and smoothly shrugged.

“Ah. May I sit here?” he asked, unmoving.

“Haven’t you already helped yourself?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude…” Chrollo meandered, his eyes looking anywhere but him, his fingers tapping an unrecognizable rhythm in his tome.

Kurapika suddenly stared at him with intent.

“You do understand you can’t kill me,” _… right?_ Kurapika kept to himself, watching him closely for any slight reaction.

“And neither you me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I want to see my spiders again.”

Kurapika gave a frustrated, short sigh. “This is ridiculous, we’ve already went over this. I’m not handing you your nen back. Ever. You should know this by now,” he glared and kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.

If the man couldn’t recognize that he was being serious, then that was a problem he’d have to contend with by himself, and Kurapika had no qualms wasting the Spider leader’s time in finding someone who’d _actually_ restore his nen. If. If he was well-aware and had the confidence to look past Kurapika’s words then… Kurapika didn’t know just what the hell he could want from him. What he was getting out of this.

“Mm,” Chrollo hummed in mild agreement as he thumbed a corner of his page, rubbing the old paper, testing it between his fingers. The man clearly was deep in thought, and watched him while he lingered on his next words, to where Kurapika wished he’d say something already; under his gaze he felt uncomfortable in his chair, itchy in his seat.

The man bookmarked the page before closing the tome with a thud.

“So. What were you doing before you came here to follow me? I’m guessing it wasn’t of enough importance for you to be able to drop everything.”

Kurapika’s eyes flared. His heart pounded at the quick flash of red in glass canisters, little chemical bubbles trapped in viscous preservative fluid. He growled. “I haven’t abandoned a thing.”

“It’s been a whole… two days? Are you not satisfied by now?” Chrollo gestured around himself, and between the two of them. Kurapika found himself wrinkling his nose at his own inclusion. “I’ve been perfectly good. I wouldn’t want to keep you away from your prior arrangements-”

Kurapika interrupted sharply. “Your concern is unwanted. In fact, it’s distracting me from my current arrangement of keeping you in line.”

“And how’s that going?”

Kurapika scowled darkly at him. He gave him a withering glare. “Annoyingly. I would’ve expected a number of things from you but since you haven’t met my expectations it has only made me even more suspicious. I can tell you’re not hiding from me,” Kurapika held up his hand and glanced a moment at his ring finger. “And as of yet you’re not trying to avoid me physically, or escape my watch and run away. Maybe you think that your compliant actions so far will placate my suspicions when you’re wrong, they only have me more on edge.”

“So you would rather prefer me to lie to you? To run? Would that fit your image of me easier?”

Kurapika snapped. “My image of you is unchanging. I want to know why you think this is funny to you. Why you’re so okay with this,” he gestured unhappily between them, curling with disgust. “What the hell are you smiling about, what are you planning?”

Chrollo’s eyes brightened.

Smoothly, he closed them. “I don’t mind you being here at all. Even despite being a Blacklist Hunter after my Troupe.”

Kurapika narrowed his glare. “Why?”

“I was lonely."

Chrollo _shrugged_.

Kurapika blinked for a moment, flabbergasted. He exhaled a breath, slowly.

“…what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“I’m just happy, that’s all.”

Kurapika stared at him.

Chrollo’s voice was warm with amusement. “Does that surprise you?”

“Explain.” Yes.

The man across from him laid his hands, palms up on the table. An offering, a concession. The Spider leader seemed to inspect himself, curious at his skin. “I’ll be honest with you then. In some ways I regret to feel like this but… I was relieved that I couldn’t see my Spiders.”

Kurapika started for a moment, and then frowned.

“You look confused.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be?” He scoffed harshly and averted his face away. “I thought the Spider was the only life philosophy you had, the only thing you defended and believed in, for a murderer,” he muttered.

The man smiled warmly at him.

Kurapika shifted, curling smaller into his seat.

Chrollo nodded softly to himself. “You’re not wrong, I’d die for the Spider,” he started and looked away, lost in thought. Kurapika didn’t know why he gave him the moment. Chrollo soon turned his attention back onto him, closely, unnervingly, as if he was inspecting him, testing him. “My team was the only thing I’ve created and valued, something I could call my “own” – for the sake of argument of course, I don’t own the Spider and I never will.”

“And? Get to the point.”

“But as you’ve so proven my Spiders still consider me their leader, and are unwilling to find a replacement at this time. I’ve never expected such a long term… I honestly thought I would be dead by now.”

Kurapika scoffed in dark humor. “You can be, I can have that arranged,” he mocked sardonically. He averted his face and pursed his lip tightly. “Or you would be, if I had anything to do about it.”

Chrollo nodded. “Mm. You came at around the right timing. I expected somebody decently effective to take a shot at us. I would hate to become complacent with our success rate, and had intended for my Spider to be ever-shifting, shedding its skin, growing, changing and getting stronger against the world.”

Kurapika narrowed his eyes.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? Am I just a stepping stone to you and your team?”

“I wanted to thank you.” Chrollo brightened at him. “I think a break was sorely needed. For my spiders and for myself.”

Kurapika blinked.

“This whole year without your nen… you mean to tell me, this was your vacation?!”

Chrollo watched him warmly, amused at his reaction. “You could call it that.”

Kurapika growled and muttered under his breath. “Something is deeply wrong with you, no doubt,” he shook his head.

The man smoothly glossed over his current mental dilemma.  

He spoke. “Ever since I began the Spider I’ve devoted myself to it, but I still remember the days when I wasn’t a Spider. Wasn’t a leader. I was just another nobody from Meteor City, with no family and no history to speak of. Of course, I’m loyal to my Spiders but I also missed the days of my youth, as I remember them. I was destitute, but I also had no responsibilities. I was free.”

Chrollo paused to look at him, open calm and honesty in his gaze. There was no bitterness in his grey eyes.

“You could say removing my nen brought me back to my roots. I was quite nostalgic for them.”

Kurapika glared upwards sharply. “I didn’t do anything for you but for myself.”

Chrollo smiled knowingly. “Of course.”

He had to look away.

Kurapika’s brow furrowed deeply. “Whatever you use to make peace with the fact is none of my concern.” He left his words out in the open.

Chrollo's eyes closed.

“Thank you.”

His face scrunched in disgust. He didn’t know what else to respond. He frowned to himself.

“ _Don’t thank me._ ”

…

Later, when a paper bag he’d just purchased was placed in his hands, barely indented through his calluses and not nearly as heavy as the weighted vest back at Kukuroo Mountain, Kurapika thanked the attendant and exited the clothing store. He glanced at the sky, checking the time, though his dowsing chain was ever alert and activated under a cloak of In. He’s still keeping tabs on Chrollo but he’s just running a few needed errands first.

Nothing’s changed.


	5. Chapter 5

He had needed to call Nostrad. At the first opportunity he could spare, Kurapika knew he needed to inform his employer of his extended absence (and subsequent change of plans). But the thought of imparting this turn of events rankled him. He had put off the call for as long as the day went on, his phone muted on silent the entire duration in between yet monopolizing his every thought. Kurapika caught the small blue indicator light that let him know he’s missed a call, but he’d been ignoring the prominent signal insistently, if not poorly. He had turned his gaze away, to other, more pressing things. But the more Chrollo committed nothing… Chrollo Lucifer, reading in his room all day, making no moves – Kurapika felt the guilt churn, he watched as how that little blue light soured a taste in his mouth and brightened insistently in the corner of his eyes. Kurapika sighed, and stood up. He grasped the thing as it was charging on his nightstand; he sat on the edge of his mattress and stared at it.

Nostrad had contacted him a total of 22 missed calls. The mafia man must have gotten in contact with Melody because he saw her name pop up a few times. Kurapika scrolled idly to stall himself, because he didn’t know what to tell his employer.

He didn’t exactly have a reason beyond a gut-feeling, beyond his firm beliefs in justice and appropriate retribution, and in what he believed his dead clan would want of him. He had personal business to attend to. But because there was no funeral procession to claim, as it had happened years ago, Kurapika knew the business man would want some measure of proof. Telling him he was going after a nenless criminal, the bounty over which had been retracted by the mafia overall wasn’t going to cut it.

Kurapika closed his eyes and breathed. He pressed call.

“Nostrad, sir.”

The man was notably silent. Kurapika surmised he must be more than angry at him.

“You too, huh,” he said, finally.

Even though the man wasn’t present, watching his reaction, Kurapika’s head cocked in confusion, hand holding his phone close to his head. Blond bangs fell a little. He blinked, rapidly. “Yes, it’s me: Kurapika, sir.”

“You too will leave me and my daughter just like the rest of them, won’t you?”

The edge in his voice was palpable. His employer was about to break. Kurapika was slightly glad he wasn’t present to see it before his eyes, experience the impending crash in full.

“I intend to hold to my contract.”

“Bullshit!” Nostrad yelled into the small speakers, and Kurapika winced. Any raising of his voice was uncharacteristic of the Mafioso of before, but now without his built-up status it was revealing of the true man he was when cornered. He scrambled to regain some semblance of power. “I order you to be here, _right now_ -”

“I apologize, Mr. Nostrad,” Kurapika heard himself say. “I will not.”

Alone, in his room, he froze. His eyes widened absorbing the tacky wallpaper before him. He blinked; blinked twice.

He half didn’t expect himself to say that.

The live evidence that he was so ardent on staying surprised him; coldly sobered him.

“I’m afraid I can’t return before I’m done.”

“Done with what? What the hell do you think I pay you for-” Kurapika didn’t deign to inform his employer that he hadn’t paid him in months. “You’re my subordinate and I expect some level of respect from you, nen experienced or not-”

Kurapika knew his boss was of a delicate state of mind. He knew that months before he would have held some pity for the man, for the fact that having a bodyguard was the last remnant of any familiarity to his old life he had left, after all his servants had been laid off, Eliza lost in mourning; Basho and Melody taking their leave. Only Kurapika stayed. Because he wasn’t in it for the money and he had unfinished business to do, Kurapika didn’t intend to damage his sole connection to the underground. He was going to use his contract until it was all used up: renew it many times over if necessary.

But Nostrad couldn’t see that. Kurapika didn’t know the words to say that could placate his boss, comfort him; if that was even possible. The man was obstinate in his fear of change, barking loud and desperate and blind to reason.

And Kurapika wanted both. In the time he had left of his nen-reduced lifespan, he wanted both his revenge and to regain his clan’s eyes. He knew it was already too much to ask.

“I’ve located the man…” he began slowly, hesitant to speak and a little uncomfortable. He hadn’t wanted to reveal this information until it was his final resort, but Kurapika was pressed to maintain both of his contracts, to his employer and to his clan. He roughly cleared his throat. “I found the man that stole your daughter’s fortune telling ability,” he said.

When his phone ran silent, Kurapika closed his eyes. He waited, wondering if he would regret this moment.

Nostrad changed.

The man was _laughing_.

“Oh, Kurapika,” his boss chuckled richly through his speakers. “I’m sorry, I doubted you. You see, I was not thinking straight for a moment earlier, I must have not been myself this morning-”

“Boss-”

“Well, where is he? _Who_ is he? I want to know everything about him.” Nostrad didn’t give him the chance to interject. “I want you to capture him like you did to one of the Troupe member’s back in York New. You can do that, can’t you? This time don't let him out of your sight. I want you to make him give my Neon her powers back. If you can bring him to me alive, I’d-”

His boss exhaled audibly through the phone. “-appreciate that greatly; Kurapika.”

“Sir-”

The mafia’s voice went soft. Almost gentle. “Kurapika. I want that man dead regardless. Do you understand me and what I’m asking? I want his head on a spike for the money and pain he’s cost me. And for what he’s done to my daughter,” he added.

 _You and me both,_ Kurapika thought. If only it was as easy as following orders...

 “If you can do that for me…”

“I’m afraid it’s not so simple.” The Kurta tightened his hand over his phone, pressing the thing close. His voice was steady and unwavering. “Killing him might not bring your daughter’s nen back.”

Advice like this was rich coming from him. The words left his lips, scripted and robotic and undeniably _false_ , with a pungent, slimy mouthfeel. Pot calling the kettle black.

“Do what you have to!” Nostrad demanded. “Catch him, hold him, I give you permission to beat him, for god’s sake! If you’re too delicate for the ordeal, I can call for someone else-”

Kurapika heard himself respond. “I’m not. I won’t hesitate,” he said quietly. His actions so far, however, have proved otherwise.

He could almost laugh at himself, if it wasn’t serious.

What Kurapika didn’t say was that though Chrollo had taken Neon’s abilities there was no way for the man to give them back. Not without Kurapika releasing him from his restrictions. And for that the Kurta didn’t care how vehement his employer charged his words, he would never.

Kurapika wanted to end this conversation already.

“Boss. I understand. I will do what I can. Please refrain from contacting me, as I’ll be preoccupied as you know,” Kurapika said logically, and he could hear the papers his employer shuffled around, the way his energy subdued itself in response to the firmness in his voice. The bodyguard managed to keep his reaction walled the entire conversation. Nostrad responded well to his stance, the man finally got a handle on himself, recovering his near-lost composure.

“Of course,” he said, clearing his throat to muster an image of professionalism. “You will do what you need to and I will do mine. If you need any requirement of assistance or funding I can make arrangements for you-” and go further into debt, Kurapika finished for him. “As this is an investment of the utmost importance,” he concluded, before ending the line.

Kurapika looked down at his phone and sighed.

…

He was growing tired. Tired of all of this. Tired of having to see his worst enemy in the morning and the next.

“You understand you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he said, walking in and finding the man in question already settled for a meal, eating and reading. Kurapika didn’t want anything. He didn’t want a repeat of the day before and at the café – another scenario shared between them that has happened one too many times already. He dared say they looked familiar, that this would look like a date. Kurapika closed his eyes to ignore the insistent thoughts he was harried over, things that were ridiculous and a complete waste of his time, and tried to focus on the information he needed to get at hand.

Chrollo didn’t skip a beat. “I’d like to think that you enjoy the challenge. I think I’m flattered to have your full attention.”

_You would be._

Kurapika barely restrained from rolling his eyes. “Of course you are. Regardless, there are some things I need to know and I would appreciate the same level of compliance you’ve shared before, so we can get this over quick.”

“Sit?”

“No.” Kurapika released the In he’s hid his chains, and allowed his dowsing weight to drop. The ball chain thudded against the table, rolling with a low sound before coming to a rest. The excess chain immediately sunk and coiled in a loose pile. He rested his hand close to the conjured silver, tapping his fingers impatiently. Chrollo raised an eyebrow at the somewhat threatening demonstration. The Spider leader slowly placed his book down.

“Let’s cut to the chase. You stole Neon Nostrad’s ability.”

“Neon Nostrad… I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the name.”

“A girl,” Kurapika started, already growing frustrated. “A teenage girl with the ability to foretell the future. She wrote down her predictions based on simple information of her customers. My bosses’ daughter.”

Chrollo hummed, quickly disinterested.

“And?”

“I’m curious,” Kurapika murmured, leaning against the table, shifting his body closer. Chrollo looked up at him and leaned slightly back in his chair, waiting. Kurapika came in more intimately, and his hair slipped against his skin and hung in between them, as if reaching for Chrollo. His words were soft and delicate. “If I kill you now will all the abilities you stole return to their rightful owners?”

Chrollo was _smiling_.

His eyes crinkled, bright with rich, dark humor. “Only one way to find out.”

Kurapika narrowed his eyes.

“Have you ever returned an ability you stole? Answer me.”

“No.”

“Can you?”

“I’m guessing you ask other than abstractly,” Chrollo smirked, and Kurapika was not amused. He glared at him silently. “Maybe if you release my nen I could find that out for you, if you’re interested.”

Kurapika made a face and turned himself away. “What a waste of my time.”

Chrollo, for some reason, didn’t want to lose his attention yet.

“I’ve never had the opportunity to return a nen ability I’ve taken; granted, I’ve never felt the disposition towards doing so. But I admit, I was always curious what would happen if I ripped a page out of my Skill Book… What would happen to the person in question.” Kurapika turned interested to the man’s words, though he hated to admit it, his interest was piqued. Chrollo seemed to pick up on his curiosity. “I wondered if there was a limit to how many abilities I could steal, and if I should make room for the abilities I want in advance. All I know is that should this Neon Nostrad die, I’d lose her ability as well. I imagine there still remains a connection between myself, the stolen party, and the abilities I’ve stole, though I’ve never bothered to learn what.”

Kurapika nodded, and reined in his expression. He made an effort to control his interest, from caring too closely. “Thank you,” he said mindlessly, to the express surprise of the man before him.

“Is there anything else?” Chrollo asked, with small hope.

“No.”

He walked away.

…

Their conversation didn’t change a thing.

Not that there was any difference in knowing, Kurapika would have never allowed Chrollo the opportunity to explore his own nen abilities, employer or not. His interest was purely leisure, if not preemptive, should he find himself in a position like his employer’s. He was befuddled that Chrollo would inform him of his nen in the first place, while at the same time unsurprised at all, it’s not like the Spider didn’t know of his abilities in turn.

Most notably however, it was interesting, if not sobering, to actually have decent conversation with the man. Amiable interaction, if a little annoying. Kurapika felt it anticlimactic, he expected the man to be tight-lipped over discussing his own abilities but his agreeableness to sharing information confounded him. His interest in his conversation. The Spider leader uprooted all his close expectations. Kurapika frowned to himself, as he didn’t know what to do from here.

Chrollo kept surprising him, refused to be the kind of man he needed him to be, refused to color within the lines of the image he drew of him in his mind. Not only that, the man was mix of black and white and gray, shading in and out, blending smoothly even in gradient all across. He was ever perplexing and Kurapika was irritated; he intended to find him out.

There was a knock at his door.

Kurapika knew who it was.

“You might as well come in.”

The day a Spider enters a room he’s occupying, as if they were friends simply dropping in on one another was a rueful day indeed. Kurapika didn’t expect to witness it in this lifetime. Chrollo wisely kept himself against the doorway, holding, patiently waiting for his chance to speak and tell him what the fuck he was even doing here.

Kurapika took mercy on the man. “I’m surprised you knocked," he offered conversationally.

Chrollo nodded. “I figured you’d appreciate that more. I wanted to impress you.”

“By being _normal_?” His voice was aghast.

He was watching him from his doorway. “By being human. I’m not the criminal you think I am.”

Kurapika closed his eyes and sighed. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

Chrollo stayed silent.

“Well. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t intend to stay here for long,” the Spider leader confessed, his tone distant. Kurapika immediately went on his guard.

“I thought you should know so you could prepare yourself.”

He tensed, nen charged at the defensive. His eyes flickered, and his chains began snaking against one another. Audibly. He threatened with a low rumble: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The man couldn’t do anything-

But Chrollo kept surprising him.

“Buy a ticket early,” he told him. “Get two. We should head for O’ Sacrament by the weekend.”

Kurapika was taken aback.

_What?_

“Are you ordering me?”

Chrollo looked at him carefully. “I’m trying to make it easier on you. And on myself.”

Kurapika couldn’t respond.

“Well?” the Spider leader challenged knowingly, watching him. What about it? he seemed to provoke, as the man hadn’t told him where they were going to or why they were leaving, and already he was testing him, trying his patience. Kurapika was bound to pursue the man anyway, wherever he would go, but this wasn’t the way he intended to go about it.

Chrollo wanted to expose him. Make him look stupid. Kurapika could say no, or he could suck it up and join him.

“You must be joking.”

Chrollo hummed noncommittally. “Maybe.”

Kurapika huffed harshly. And then he thought about it and frowned at the seriousness in the man’s voice. “I’m not one of your spiders. You can’t be serious.”

Chrollo shrugged.

“I am.”

He closed his eyes and breathed.

“No.”

The tension ended.

The man didn’t falter. He went with it. “Okay. I’ll be off to the station alone then. I would get a ticket for you myself but if you’d prefer to continue this farce of an investigation-”

“This is no farce.”

“-I would prefer you purchase a seat near me than trying to disguise yourself from a distance. It’s a waste of your time and energy.”

“My expense is none of your concern.”

Chrollo smiled warmly. “And I’d like for your company. If you’re going to be tailing me.”

Kurapika stared at him.

Chrollo waited, amused.

There was an inside joke on him somewhere, but Kurapika couldn’t figure out what.

And when he was done with what he wanted, (always, what he wanted) Chrollo gave his partings and clicked the door shut behind him. They were momentary goodbyes of course, they both knew well he would see him again. Kurapika remained stiff in his seat. He found himself, staring after the image of dark slacks and a quick (fake, _dangerous_ ) smile, sitting in an empty room.

 …

He couldn’t sit and wait for the man to make his move.

As soon as the station was nearing closing time and well after he had glimpsed Chrollo leaving the premises, Kurapika made his way inside. He moved straight towards the service desk, his steps sharp and determined against tiled floors. He was as prideful as he was desperate, for information on the man that would have easily told him anything he wanted to know to his face. Kurapika didn’t have a reason. He wanted the facts, bare and unaccompanied by watching, dark eyes and he wanted-

Well. It was easier to explain what he didn’t want, Kurapika couldn’t name exactly what he was feeling. All he knew was that he couldn’t stand being in the vicinity of the man anymore, talking to him, seeing him face to face after the fact that every waking and fitful sleeping moment the same person occupied his mind. He was being petty, if not childish, but he wanted to figure things out for himself rather than have the Spider leader tell him.

He was tired of Chrollo dictating what he should do. He didn’t know how he was doing it, but he was tired of him slipping a hand into his thoughts and directing what he should think. Kurapika didn’t know what kind of game Chrollo was playing at but he had had enough.

He greeted the young, female desk clerk with a plastered smile. Once she had made her introductions, he asked for the man that went before him.

“You want to go to Angellos as well, sir? The man before you asked for a ticket to go there before heading west.”

“West?”

The woman nodded.

“Yes. He’s purchased a one-way ticket cross-country. Final stop should be… York New!” The woman replied cheerfully.

His eyes widened. Kurapika could feel his face blanch in growing horror.

 _He’s trying to go back,_ he realized suddenly.

( _But why?_ Kurapika frowned, and had to forcefully shove the surge of nerves that spiked him at the information he was learning. He wasn't scared, but he was stuck frozen, concerned with the action he was taking. Kurapika looked to his hands, seeing in his mind’s eye his chain rings on naked skin. He folded his hands to cover up the unsettling emptiness, but there was nothing he could do.)

No one to fight. Nothing to put a stop to what Chrollo clearly had in motion. Kurapika could abandon him here or-

“Are you interested in the same pass? There’s a fall discount code only available this week. If you’d like the opportunity to visit your family-” she went on, and Kurapika quieted for a moment.

He mentally reviewed the dates he’s held in his mind, the assigned appointments he’s kept working under Nostrad and Kurapika stilled, searched, thought and found nothing. This year there was no auction. Nostrad’s contacts held nothing of note. By his calculations similarly are the rest of Chrollo’s Spiders occupied, as they were still to be found within the Greed Island game, along with Gon and Killua. There was nothing for Chrollo there in York New. Nothing more. Hisoka, as far as he knew, was also in the game, albeit searching for a nen remover to fight Chrollo. He wondered momentarily if the man had made contact with Hisoka before realizing that no, Chrollo wouldn’t want to fight him anyway, not if he could see his spiders first.

Then who could he find there? Kurapika racked his brain but the Troupe weren’t known for keeping close outside relations, unless said acquaintances were already dead. All he knew was that Chrollo wanted to see his spiders most. Chrollo wanted that more than anything, he could tell the man considered that to hold even greater priority than regaining his nen.

He frowned at the sudden thought and the lady faltered, thinking him uninterested.

“Is there-”

“I’ll take it,” he said quickly, his tone curt and cold. The woman behind the desk flinched a bit before nodding emphatically in response.

She relayed the price and Kurapika let his face fall, the shadows on his skin darkening his expression as he lost himself to thought. His body moved on automatic, pulling out his wallet and thumbing for his card, but the weight of his thoughts slowed and deadened all feeling in his limbs. What the hell was he doing? He asked, but he couldn’t tell whether he was asking that of Chrollo or of himself.

…

Once outside, he stared down at his own ticket. His name was printed on the upper left corner and it felt like things were happening too soon, too decisive, like he wasn’t himself lately. Kurapika didn’t normally think himself as impulsive as this, then again, he could never see things straight whenever Spiders were concerned. Going to York New was far from where his employer was staying and eerily back to where they’ve come, where it all started. Kurapika couldn’t help but feel manipulated in some way, like something was out of his hands, he couldn’t stop the itchy stinging along his spine, out of suspicion.

He knew there must be a trap waiting for him there but he couldn’t abandon his watch now. Not if the trick was letting Chrollo leave in the first place.

The sky above him darkened notably. It looked like it was about to rain. At the first stirrings of wind and cold, Kurapika shivered, holding himself tightly underneath his clothes, clutching his ticket in his fist. His hair blew in his eyes until he saw it, saw Chrollo standing at a distance. He had caught onto the very first passes sold, the same tracks headed past where his employer was stationed, making its way back to York New. Kurapika didn’t know what to do with that information.

He walked to where Chrollo stood (waiting? for him?) and confronted the man.

“You want me to go with you somewhere.”

“Yes.”

Kurapika frowned. He hadn’t confirmed where aloud, but he felt they both knew exactly the location the other was thinking.

Chrollo continued. “I would run if it makes this any easier on you. But I’m not particularly interested in playing cat and mouse. If I can get you to accompany me simply-”

“My Boss has ordered me to kill you.”

Chrollo hummed and said nothing.

Kurapika murmured softly. “I can’t tell if you truly have no sense of self-preservation or you just don’t see me as a threat.”

The Spider leader lazily watched him, as if waiting for him to take his words back, get a handle on himself and the melancholy he let slip in his tone, before raising his eyes to darkening clouds.

The man offered lightly. “Does it make a difference what your employer has requested? You already want to kill me.”

He thinks… he was trying to comfort him? Kurapika let his gaze hold onto the Spider leader’s face.

“No, it doesn’t. But,” Kurapika hesitated. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He opened them, matching the other’s gaze, staring into the Spider leader with intent. “It reaffirms my conviction. I’m not your only victim. Neon won’t be your last.”

He felt something decisive in his tone, felt it click in place as the wind blew and he clutched his ticket tighter, allowed his eyes to turn red. Chrollo only blinked.

“Oh wow. Principled,” he whistled, impressed.

This time, Kurapika did roll his eyes. “Yes.”

“What’s really stopping you?” The leader asked him earnestly, interest lighting up his face and in his voice.

Kurapika was flustered by his sudden boyishness. _Huh?_

The older man took a step closer. Kurapika blinked in surprise. “You’re not holding yourself back on the off chance that I’ll recover my abilities; I dare say you might even desire to fight me, like Hisoka...” The comparison he’s made between himself and Hisoka made Kurapika scrunch his face in disgust. Chrollo's eyes gleamed, amused at his reaction. “You’re not lacking the confidence, and you clearly have the conviction. So. What’s really stopping you?”

“Do you want to die so bad?”

Chrollo waited patiently, smiling.

Kurapika sighed.

“Luckily for you, there are people out there that hold concern over both my physical health, as well as my mental wellbeing. You could almost thank them. They’re the reason I hesitate.” He looked down at his hands.

The wind swept, chilling them, until he heard the man next to him hitch his breath.

“Huh. That’s why you won’t kill me,” Chrollo realized, the light shining in his gaze. Kurapika widened his eyes. “Those friends of yours, they don’t want you to complete your revenge.”

He froze. For a moment, he couldn’t think. And then the words slammed him all at once and the Kurta came alive, fire lashing in his eyes. Kurapika growled darkly at the sudden interest in the man’s voice.

“And they’re not here, and they have _nothing to do with this now,_ ” he snarled, hissing almost literally at the bit. “You won’t get anywhere near them so long as I live.”

He was a cat riled, blond hairs sticking up and chains bared like claws in response to the sudden humidity. The weather brought in the first few spotty drops of rain and electricity crackled the air, heightening his nen. Chrollo looked down on him with something else in his mind that the Kurta couldn’t identify. He silently inspected him. The man cocked his head to the side slightly, all the while watching, and then he hummed and nodded to himself in agreement.

“You have good friends.”

…


	6. Chapter 6

He walked to the train station.

It was early, foggy early, and the clouds hovered close to ground while the morning sunlight gave off dim, spotty rays through the air. Kurapika could see the water molecules fall like dust as the light hit against them, giving off a dewy, magical glow. Unfortunately that morning he wasn’t impressed, he was shivering cold and irritated, his hands red and stiff as he dragged his sparse luggage with him. He had to leave before he had had any breakfast because the trip _they_ were making was across the country, not to mention an excursion he had no understanding of. Chrollo, of course, wouldn’t tell him of his true intentions. The man was waiting patiently for him; Kurapika spotted a dark coat with fur in-lining.

From outside, he could see Chrollo before Chrollo could see him, see him sitting in one of those plastic holding chairs, this time without his trademark book in hand. It was as surreal as it deftly antagonized him, reminding Kurapika of the mess he got himself in.

His steps swiftly clicked against the flooring as he avoided eye contact. Kurapika’s presence however was too notable in the near-empty station, and at ass-o-clock in the morning there was no one else getting a ticket. Chrollo could have probably sensed his animosity the moment he walked through the automated doors. He looked up at him instantly, happy to see him walk in.

It could drive Kurapika insane, the way the man implored him with his eyes (ordered, Kurapika thought, if the way those dark eyes ran deep and beguiled all his victims to perform his will) that he actually expected him to come near his seat. To join him. Kurapika could sit stiffly out of spite or,

He could accept it, and set aside his pride for the time being. It wasn’t about him anyway. It was about his clan.

Kurapika stopped in front of the other man.

“You’re early,” Chrollo commented.

He stared as he tried to make basic conversation with him. He couldn’t figure why he bothered, if Chrollo was just jiving him that he was so desperate for human contact he’d settle on his enemy in lieu of his spiders. Kurapika didn’t say anything and Chrollo didn’t expect him to, he was happily content with the skimp responses he’d been getting even though it placed him in an awkward position.

Chrollo didn’t give up though. “Sit?” he offered, as there was plenty of empty seats near him.

“No.”

The man was unfazed in the slightest. “I understand this upsets you.”

He couldn’t comprehend. Kurapika flared like a bird ruffled, feathers splayed dangerously and chest puffed up in defense. He spat: “That doesn’t capture the half of it.”

“I only want to see my Spiders again, nothing more. I hoped you out of all people would understand.”

_This fucker._

“There’s no one waiting for you in York New,” he cut coldly.

Chrollo agreed.

His understated reaction angered him.

“You think you can rope me around like some dog on a leash, but I’ll have you know-”

“I don’t think of you as a dog.” His voice was soft.

Kurapika stopped. Chrollo closed his eyes and shrugged.

“If I did I wouldn’t bother talking to you right now. I’d like to think that despite any past transgressions you’re quite willing to talk things out, surprisingly. Isn’t that why you decided on your chains? You choose to restrain, not kill.”

Kurapika hated him.

He hated being analyzed like an insect under a microscope, watched and weighted over his next reactions as if the man recorded of his softer sensibilities like they were the complementary end notes to his profile he had of him as an enemy, or dismissed as not one at all. He hated being thought of as a non-threat. But what Chrollo didn’t know was that he doubted. He felt like his convictions were being attacked and his spite surged through his body and pooled into his mouth, like foam, thick and numbing on his face and cheeks. He felt his eyes turn red. Kurapika wanted to say something, do something – _move his hands_ – but he figured the man intended his words as some type of compliment; a respect.

He hated that the most.

Kurapika growled darkly. “You are gravely mistaken. I don’t choose. If there is any choice it is beyond me,” he narrowed his eyes at him.

Chrollo sounded bored. “Is that so?”

He sneered. “You and your Troupe are a group of highly dangerous individuals, your nen deserves to be sealed.”

“Deserves, huh?...” Chrollo repeated to himself and Kurapika glared. “And who is to be the judge of what I deserve? You?” he suggested lightly.

Kurapika’s nen pulsed once in warning. “Yes. You have a problem with that?”

“You don’t make a very fair judge.”

_‘You don’t make a very--’_

“‘Fair’?!” Kurapika pulled the man up by the collar, dragging him from his chair into a stand. Chrollo didn’t seem very surprised by his actions, he was indifferent to the manhandling, his eyes averted from his. The way he seemed to hide from Kurapika pissed him off. “Fair is for the normal, salvageable – _redeemable_ criminals – the ones who still have even the slightest vestiges of their humanity left. You don’t qualify. You and your Troupe don’t know what ‘fair’ means, you haven’t engaged in an act of mercy in your life.”

Chrollo was taller but Kurapika had his enhanced nen at his disposal, he had no trouble lifting the man with one hand. His grip crumpled the high collared long sleeve he wore underneath his fur coat, black and held together in a white criss-cross pattern.

Chrollo didn’t even try getting out of his hold. His hair shifted and fell, grazing pale skin; Kurapika watched those dark strands fall. He argued coolly. “You’re very biased in your judgement of me. Your history compromises your judgement. Aren’t judges supposed to be neutral? Innocent until proven guilty, before a court of law? Where can I get in contact with my lawyer?”

“You think you’re funny…” Kurapika felt his eyes turn red despite himself. “You believe you deserve equal human rights,” he scoffed darkly. “But as far as I’m concerned, you don’t exist if you come from Ryuusegai, and you never did. I intend to make sure no one remembers who you are, Phantom Troupe.”

Chrollo looked like he was struggling to maintain his carefree look. His eyes were distant, but his lips were pursed thinly.

“Is that why you haven’t turned me in to the police? You could do that, Blacklist Hunter. That’s your honorable vocation, for the safety of the people.” Kurapika dropped him and shoved him, the back of the man’s knees hitting the seat of his chair. But Chrollo didn’t fall, he stumbled only slightly, recovered and shrugged him off. “That’s what you’re supposed to do with criminals like me. Hunters hunt, capture their prey, but leave the justice to the justice system. But maybe you think you’re above that, judge.”

Kurapika loomed closer, lingering only inches away from the man’s frame. He grabbed his bicep, and tightened his hold, the chain rings on his fingers gleaming as they imprinted through the thick coat. He was making his threat, constricting Chrollo’s blood flow and his movements.

“I don’t consider myself above the law, like you. Unlike you I don’t have any mistakes as to my moral convictions; I don’t have any doubts as to what I’m doing is right,” he said.

Chrollo’s voice went genuinely light and curious. “Oh?”

His words were cold. Chilling. “You don’t exist as far as the criminal justice system is concerned. No one will miss you. I think your opinion does not matter,” Kurapika said, punctuating his words with a rough twist of his arm. His eyes darkened to a deep brown, his gaze lidded, dominating, and dead of light. Chrollo didn’t make a single noise of complaint. “Your actions have categorized you as kill on sight. Exterminate. If I erased you off the face of this Earth, I’d be doing humanity a favor.”

Even as Kurapika was saying this, sealing the threat of his words with another _harsh_ twist of his arm, his actions were signaling of something else. Kurapika had hesitated. Kurapika hadn’t killed him yet. These facts were undeniable. Kurapika was talking to the man right now, trying to comprehend his actions, trying to understand him better.

He had wanted to become the threat they committed against him, to dehumanize them as they’ve done to his clan but he’s realizing that somewhere already he’s failed. Maybe it was here, in this moment, maybe it was meeting Chrollo back in the city of Saffran – or maybe it was back then a year ago, facing Pakunoda and returning her leader’s life in exchange to save his friends.

 

_Why haven’t you asked any questions?_

_You know who I am, don’t you?_

_You aren’t worried?_

_You don’t find this deal unreasonable?_

_Do you truly believe I’ll return your leader?_

 

 _‘Yes.’_ she had told him.

 

He had demanded then why she had trusted him, why she didn’t believe he’d betray her and ruthlessly kill the man, but he knew that this was what his friends had warned him about. That his revenge would chain him, make him into something he’s not, make him say and do things he would never. It would limit his options, darken the corners of his mind until his sight was closed off from all else, from anything worthwhile. It would drag him backwards by the hounds of hell, latching and nipping onto his ankles and worst of all he would let it, even knowing the consequences. They were worried, Melody especially, of his heart and mindset when he’d succeed his goals, completely abandon himself, and ultimately kill the man. She had told him then that revenge never suited him, and that kindness was his most defining trait.

She was wrong.

“I think you’re a hypocrite, Kurapika.” Chrollo looked at him knowingly, appraisingly and Kurapika felt like he could see right through him. His smile was small and gentle _and_ _patronizing_ and it pissed him the fuck off! Chrollo said smugly. “You don’t want to report me to the police, because you want to satisfy your own vigilante fantasies. You’re selfish. You’re just as greedy as I am.”

Kurapika yelled.

“Don’t even begin to compare me to you! I am nothing like you!”

Chrollo closed his eyes peacefully even as he yanked at the man’s arm.

“You make conditions to check yourself, as if to make up for the fact that you work outside the law as much as my Spiders. You went underground, joining the mafia, working outside the bounds because you were made as much of an outcast as myself after your clan went extinct.”

He saw red.

Chrollo went on quietly. “But then again, the Scarlet Eyes were always isolated even before their end. Too proud to integrate with the locality around them, wanting to keep their eyes and genetics pure… They made themselves into easy pickings, all the same for me,” he coolly shrugged.

His eyes were closed so he didn’t see it.

Next thing he knew, Chrollo was on the ground.

…

They missed their train.

…

This was the second time. Already ( _only?_ ) the second time he had lost control, the second time they were kicked out of an establishment.

The staff at the station continued to hold onto their luggage they had checked in, but had removed of their persons _‘strictly and promptly off the premises without accepting any protest’_. They had said they would give back their luggage soon, but not until the authorities arrived or until further notice from upper management. Kurapika twitched with irritation, pacing outside the automated doors, muttering expletives to himself. Although getting kicked out caused them to miss their train (because of him, he didn’t want to admit) the station refused to refund their tickets. There were strict rules in the waiting room, to manage the homeless and the like, and while the thought that Kurapika was being a public disturbance sent a spike of guilt to churn in his gut, the feeling of hitting Chrollo once again abated his rapid thoughts a little, filled him with a sense of vindication.

Kurapika looked down at his hands. Not that there were much witnesses around to stare at the spectacle of a fight, the Kurta lifting Chrollo by the collar only to punch him again. Only one particular individual, one of the staff, a boy even younger than him, rolled his eyes at Kurapika’s redirected frustration towards the register, commenting offhandedly that _it was too damn early for this_.

Maybe that’s why he had flipped his shit. He had no choice but to let it go. He had to bitterly agree. That, and that outside the waiting station it was freezing cold.

Regardless, he was pissed at the situation he was in now. The station had called the police, on him! A pro Hunter! Kurapika had to actually wait for the authorities to arrive. He initially wanted to plead with the station, nearly considered whipping out his Hunter License to ease things but Chrollo didn’t seem as concerned with the removal as he was. The Spider leader was meekly quiet beside him, rubbing his cheek where Kurapika had punched him, waiting for his things as well. Kurapika couldn’t figure why the man didn’t fight back. Even without his nen he had the skill set of a professional assassin, and could fully defend himself. Instead, Chrollo stood there rubbing his cheek like a disgruntled, pouty child, and Kurapika was slightly peeved by the action; the man didn’t make any sense.

He hadn’t fought back. Wasn’t he mad at the things he said about him in turn?

Kurapika forced himself to breathe, and to contain himself, though it seemed lately like he was always in need of some recouping. Chrollo Lucifer clearly wasn’t good for his health, or for his sanity, Kurapika knew that well and yet he chose to throw himself into the fray again.

He tried to speak, to make a sound, but it felt like he couldn’t formulate the words, they were heavy and thick in his throat. Painful.

“Why?” he swallowed.

Chrollo looked at him.

Kurapika cleared his throat. It was difficult. He was currently walking on a tight rope, letting himself speak and telling things that the man standing next to him had no business to hear, but it wasn’t like he could stop. It felt like he had waited for this moment. Kurapika stood there stiffly, refusing to face the other man, to show how fragile and delicate he had fallen, eyes alternating between a milky brown and a dimming red. He was being uncharacteristically forthcoming and Kurapika knew he would soon regret it, that his words would come back to bite him in the ass. “Why do you have to say things like that all the time? Do you enjoy to rub it in? Haven’t you had enough?”

Chrollo stared at him. He blinked for a moment, nodded to himself and averted his gaze out of some last respect. He let his eyes roam lazily upwards at the building in front of them in thought. “If it makes you feel any better… I never intended for any survivors.”

Kurapika looked up at him with bleary, shiny eyes.

“I never wanted to cause needless long suffering.”

Kurapika turned bright red.

“You’re not even fucking sorry!” He lunged towards him, but it seemed that Chrollo had finally had enough, this time he dodged his hands and Kurapika missed. This made the Kurta even more upset, without the satisfaction of hitting him again he felt unsettled, uneasy, and without an outlet for his feeling.

“You _bastard_ … You’re a monster.”

Chrollo seemed to shrug, unbothered by his words and duly uninterested.

“It’s the truth. Would you rather I give false platitudes of regret and empty apologies? Did you not ask for my honesty? I doubt that this is something an apology can cover anyway,” he shrugged, and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets.

Kurapika recognized that he agreed with him, but the fact still stung and he couldn’t understand why-

“But I don’t enjoy causing you pain.”

Kurapika blinked up at him.

Chrollo stared fixedly on the building in front of them. He seemed to refuse to return his gaze. Regret? Embarrassment? Kurapika couldn’t get the chance to read his face.

“In consideration of our history…” Chrollo hedged lightly, and the Kurta nearly snarled. _Understatement of the year,_ he thought, but he glared at the man and said nothing. “I intend to make myself honest,” Chrollo said.

This surprised him.

The Spider leader was stiff next to him, tall and suddenly awkward. His lips were pursed, and the side of his expression he could see was slightly frustrated, frowning strictly upwards in exasperation.

Honesty? What was he saying? Kurapika wanted to know what the hell he was talking about but Chrollo kept trying to keep his face hidden from him.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t regret killing your clan, then at the moment and even now. If you want to punch me for my frankness then I feel as if you are being excessive…” Chrollo shifted slightly, inching away before Kurapika could get touchy. “You ask me questions and you want my answers but when I give them to you truthfully you get upset. I can’t help if the reason I give doesn’t satisfy you. What would you want me to say?” Chrollo wondered aloud, before he could interject.

What does he want him to say? Kurapika wanted him to say a lot of things but when asked on the spot he couldn’t think of any of them. He faltered, the emotion trapped between his lips, his hands still but restless. He wouldn’t hit the man again if he didn’t want to fight back. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear.

Chrollo continued.

“I assume… Well. I believe that you don’t want to hear me apologize. Like your friend, you want to know why.” Chrollo finally looked at him. Kurapika felt his heart seize at the look in his eyes. “But unlike those kids I think you’re mature enough to realize: even you know you’re looking for a logic that isn’t there.” The man watched him carefully.

Was he?

He stepped down a little, despite himself.

“Regardless, if I lied to you you’d be even more convinced that I’m an inhuman criminal. And even if I was delicate and considerate around the answers I'd give you-” Chrollo paused to take a breath, before he exhaled a small puff of cold air. “No apology would be enough to make up for it. They’re dead. Nothing you or I say matters.”

Kurapika flinched at the word – _dead_ – his eyes flooding scarlet and he bristled.

“Don’t start with that! You don’t have any respect for the lives you took, for the corpses you’ve mauled, desecrated and stolen from?! These aren’t animals that you strip for their fur – they’re people!”

“I was well aware.”

“They had a livelihood, Chrollo, they were _my_ people! You destroyed an entire culture! Do you understand?” he begged him. The man didn’t tear away.

And Kurapika wanted to see it. He wanted to see the light of something in his eyes, something there and familiar, and he looked and he looked and he searched deeply into those greys only to find nothing reflecting back. He couldn’t see a thing. No recognition, no hint of acknowledgment; nothing. His breath caught in his throat. Kurapika tried to keep his expression from falling. He blinked the water away, rapidly.

His eyes widened, flitting desperately across a blank, open face. Nothing. He was panicking, because he didn’t know just _what_ he was standing next to.

He tried to keep his breathing level, but it felt like he was drowning.

“Maybe to you…” He shook quietly. “Maybe to you they’re just dead bodies to harvest from, but I believe that my ancestors still walk this earth. Knowing the state of them now, being without their eyes... They ghost on blindly, Chrollo, never able to find peace. I intend to return every last pair you took to their rightful grave to ensure my clan reaches the other side.”

There’s something to be said about his empty silence. He had to give him the benefit of the doubt, Chrollo let him talk without interruption.

“Was that your other goal?” Chrollo huffed lightly. “That’s why you’ve joined the mafia. How much will you sacrifice of yourself, working from the shadows, before you reach your goal, I wonder?”

Kurapika’s face twisted.

“That’s none of your concern. I intend to complete my mission no matter what happens to me.”

“And then what?”

Kurapika frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Could _you_ find peace?” Chrollo mused. “After you succeed and after you sacrifice, what will you have left? A clan that’s still dead and their eyes removed from their bodies, and no one left to thank you for your hard work.”

He could scream.

“You’re so loyal… so diligent and loyal, to people who aren’t even there to acknowledge it.” He seemed to say to himself.

“They are there!” he pressed.

“Where? I don’t see them. If I remember correctly, I killed them with my own hands.”

Kurapika sunk his nails into his flesh until they bled, but for god’s sake he wasn’t going to do it. “Fuck you! I hate you!”

Chrollo looked at him.

Kurapika tried to breathe regularly, to calm his heartbeat from racing. He struggled to maintain his face. He was panting, and he strained to express himself intelligibly.

He was breaking.

“I’m fighting for the _memory_ ,” his voice cracked. “The… idea of it, that empty space that occupied what I had. Maybe that is valueless, nothing – _air_ to you, but it has stayed strong in my beliefs and is worth to die defending,” he gasped out.

Chrollo watched him patiently.

He watched and he waited as Kurapika fought to compose himself. He was patronizing with his silence, the way he looked at him curiously. Chrollo observed him at his worst. He was quiet as Kurapika was falling apart, so quiet that Kurapika wanted to cry. He hated this. He hated him. He wanted to hide.

He didn’t want to be like this, not in front of him, not _once_ before his friends, and he hoped that the shame could kill him. Even though he recognized that his raw emotions held no effect; Chrollo didn’t mind at all, and the Spider leader wouldn’t remember his face like this anyway.

Chrollo was like a child. He was curious at the angry animal in a cage, not understanding the true depths of what he felt. Kurapika was the last of his kind with only the echoes of his memory to comfort him, and Chrollo… Chrollo was the last tie to his family’s memory, their death.

Maybe that’s why he wanted to talk to him so bad.

The man watched him until he finally gained some semblance of control, but it didn’t feel like he was sympathetic but looking at him pityingly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to undermine your beliefs. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kurapika breathed.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Personally, I’d hate to waste my time on something that can’t be changed. I’d like to move on, to something greater, to something more, and I’d like to believe that the people I’ve lost would want the same,” his voice was soft.

“Your clan is dead,” Chrollo repeated boldly, insensitively, and before he could protest or punch him again, he continued. “But you’re not. You live. You survived. You were stronger than them. You could be so much more than this,” he sung sweetly to himself. He moved closer to him with every word, until Kurapika couldn’t lean away. Enraptured by his eyes, his hand found itself in his hair, thumb rubbing reverently against his temple.

He froze.

Kurapika had slapped him.

And Chrollo practically let him, he let his head get pushed to the side, his neck get bent to the right. His hand slipped and fell between blond strands. He let Kurapika leave a bright red print on his cheek. He let his dark hair fall into his face after the hit, let his chest sigh and he huffed humorlessly to himself, and then he turned to him, grey eyes bright in the face of his fierce, unshakeable defiance.

“I hate it when you do that.” He smiled brilliantly.

Kurapika stood fast and glared.

“You really show yourself... to be an uncontrollable, emotional _child_ , and it disappoints me.”

“Stop appraising me,” he spoke calmly, his voice chilling and introspective. He was finally coming to a conclusion for himself. “I’m not a thing that gets more ‘valuable’ or stronger with time, Chrollo.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” The Spider leader shrugged, not really feeling sorry.

Kurapika narrowed his eyes.

“I was going to offer you a position as a spider but-”

He almost fainted with the rush of anger that whited out his sight; Kurapika swayed weakly on his feet.

“-but I think I don’t like you," he finished.

“The feeling is… mutual.” Kurapika glared back coldly. He struggled to recover himself.

Chrollo smiled and his eyes crinkled; he was quite handsome, Kurapika could admit. But those greys were dangerous, bright and cruel and filled with a kind of hatred, an irritation. Kurapika would have felt threatened if he didn’t also feel vindictive and oddly triumphant, in making the disinterested man just as pissed as he was.

At this point, he would readily welcome the police; Chrollo would need it. Fuck, he just wanted his luggage already.

Kurapika knew that a week of each other’s company was too much friction of their ideals, too much time spent together and that Chrollo should eventually tire of Kurapika’s pursuit. He thought the man would try to escape by now but it seemed as if he had a penchant for torture because he made himself endure his presence. The Kurta didn’t get it, but it didn’t matter. It felt like every day they were coming to some sort of conclusion and the thought scared him, getting to know the man better. He was a cruel, evil, devil of a human being completely devoid of anything worthwhile but by the gods, Kurapika was learning what he was like, more and more, better and better each day.

He feared at the end what that would make of him. What would happen to him in York New.

Kurapika tried for an olive branch. So that they could remain in one piece by the time the authorities arrived. His tone was relatively level, restrained enough to continue this shit show of a conversation. “I can’t believe you,” he struggled. “I can’t believe that you would bother offering.”

Chrollo stared at him coolly.

“Not that it matters, you should save your breath. For one, you’ll never see your friends again if I have anything to say about it. And secondly, I could never join your Troupe. You’re a bunch of dirty thieves. Did you really think I would join?”

The Spider leader shrugged.

“You’d have a right to do so. So long as you defeat a spider you’re allowed to take their place. I’m not one to hold grudges.”

The ‘unlike you’ was unspoken but clear.

Kurapika was frustrated.

“Don’t you care? I killed your comrade, Number 11.”

Chrollo’s voice turned quickly interested. “Do you feel guilty about it?”

“No,” he said curtly.

He wanted to leave it then and there, before things got worse somehow, but the impulse wouldn’t leave him. It built up feeling in his mouth, the necessity of it driving him to utter irritation, until he couldn’t help himself. Kurapika clicked his tongue loudly, already calling to Chrollo’s interest before he could smother his insistent thoughts. He let his visible disappointment be known. Chrollo prompted him.

“What?”

Kurapika scoffed audibly. Fine. He’ll let him have it.

“I would think you were more careful over the death of one of your own, _Chrollo_ , instead of accepting their deaths like they were the stepping stones for your damn Spider,” he spat harshly, almost losing himself. His mouth curled with express disgust. “Somehow, it makes you look even more shitty than you already are.”

Chrollo blinked.

Kurapika breathed in and out, steeling himself, actively regretting his words as he spoke. He didn’t know why he tried. “This isn't about being the strongest. People, including your comrades, aren’t valued by their strengths, or use-value, or-”

“Or aesthetics? Like your clan’s eyes?” Chrollo offered poorly.

Kurapika’s breath hitched in pain.

“Yes.”

The Spider leader paused. He let him mourn for a moment. He was uncannily aware of his need to come to terms with the fact, that his entire people were used and abused purely for aesthetic reasons, because their eyes were pretty. And then, after some time, Chrollo had gotten bored of them one day and sold them all away. He could almost see it. Did they die in vain? He couldn’t think.

No. Not exactly. They didn’t die in vain. Not that that makes it any better, trying to come up with logical reasons why they were gone when the whole situation wasn’t logical in the first place.

Chrollo wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were off, distant. But something beckoned him to meet his gaze. Kurapika stared up with tired eyes, he was tired of all his feelings, of having to do this.

But then, Chrollo admitted quietly. Kurapika heard it.

“I do miss him.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: They have no clue Pakunoda is dead.
> 
> 5/1/19: fancomic of this chap made by [bonbonpich!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonbonpich/pseuds/bonbonpich)
> 
> Thank you for bringing my humble little story to life, seeing their expressions is worth their weight in gold. I don't deserve this at all, T.T
> 
> please if you're reading this be sure to check out bonbonpich's stories and artwork:) Here's their [tumblr](https://bonbonpich.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/bonbonpich)~


	7. Chapter 7

The longer he remained in Chrollo’s presence the more he grew confused, deeply disturbed, and doubtful of his life’s purpose. He was conflicted prior to meeting him, but seeing the Spider leader again and hearing the man speak… His words exacerbated his growing conflict, churning in his gut and mind, before catapulting into something he must have been thinking for a long time.

Chrollo was unchangeable.

There was no fixing him. There was no saving him. He had conjured his chains in the hopes that he could restrain his enemies, keep them immobile long enough to place them in a yielding position, stop them from continuing their evil. He manifested his judgement chain to cast appropriate judgement on those criminals, to keep them from their strengths once and for all. He trained, followed them, pursued them, dedicated his life to the end of their existence only to find that for what they’ve done their presence didn’t end with their lives. They represented something bigger, something more difficult for him to defeat. He never saw himself as a proponent for justice or change – he never wanted to be a hero – but it was only now that he felt stupid for the thoughts that he was thinking. He felt like he failed. Kurapika looked at his hands, empty of the chains that weighed so heavily on his mind.

He had tried his best. He had given them so many chances. Kurapika wouldn’t allow himself to feel regret.

When he stopped to think about it, he wasn’t even upset. Knowing that Chrollo would never change… Kurapika thought that the surge of anger would blind him, instigate his very actions until he’d smite the man right there. But he couldn’t feel a thing. He almost felt comforted. The man would never change, and so Kurapika would have something that would last forever.

He could spend the rest of his existence fulfilling his family’s wrongs. He created Emperor Time because it’s not as if he would know what to do if he finished collecting all the eyes. Kurapika didn’t become a Blacklist Hunter for anyone other than the Troupe.

He could give up after hearing the man’s words, or he could _choose_.

The Spider, however, was doubly self-aware. Chrollo was unsurprised to his feelings, he was not a stranger to pursuit and to avengers like himself. He was just unknowing of the sentiment. Nobody had survived as long as he had. No one had been enough to make a mark on one of his people.

Maybe Kurapika didn’t cement his chain jail in vain.

He had hoped that with a death Chrollo would suffer the same as he had, and learn. He had wanted to hear it. But Chrollo didn’t say the words he wanted to hear. Chrollo had no excuse for what he had done but neither did he apologize for it; Kurapika thought that if he honestly did he would have truly killed the man.

If there was any last redeeming act it was that they were both at a crossroads, at a grey impasse. But this time, Kurapika wouldn’t be told of what to do. The only step from here was to accept. Once he did that, he could come up with a plan of action in accordance.

Kurapika lingered near the train station, long after the police had asked their cursory questions and they were left alone. Chrollo had made the right choice and distanced himself from him, Kurapika glanced across at the man and silently agreed. He didn’t feel like talking to him anymore; he wasn’t satisfied with the answers he had gotten but he would make himself be. Now, Kurapika just wanted to think.

He had to do something about him.

At this rate, Kurapika might as well be one of his precious spiders: he was following him so closely he might as well be one of the spiders that tag Chrollo at all times, protecting him under any costs. He knew Chrollo amused himself with the fact that he was being ironically loyal. But Kurapika chose to ignore whatever the man used to delight himself with, and decided to focus on his goals and what he intended to do; Chrollo could think what he likes otherwise.

Looking at the other man sit quietly alone on a bench, all he knew was what he _didn’t_ want to do.

He hadn’t come here to change him. He hadn’t come to save the Spider leader at all, despite the forgiving nature of his judgement chain. Even before he was proven right to want to exterminate them, he truly did come to kill Chrollo, and his friends’ ideas of himself as being a lot kinder than he would think were strictly lies. He had wanted to end it. Fatally. One way or another, he wanted to take them in the end and end himself in turn.

But he hadn’t done any of those things.

Even now, watching the other man as they waited for the next train departure (that they had to pay for a second time) Kurapika still didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he had the live evidence of what he _didn’t_ , sitting perfectly there, right across from him.

When Chrollo happened at the right moment to return his gaze, Kurapika didn’t hide away. He looked back. Chrollo gave him a quick smile, before resuming his book.

And Kurapika realized.

He had come here for something else. And Chrollo knew what it was. Chrollo was so peaceful as he busied himself, mindless to the thoughts he was churning, even without his nen he had the thing he had wanted most in the world. Watching him filled him with a deep kind of jealousy that the Spider leader could be so quick to move on, to look up and smile so easily in the face of his greatest threat.

He _wanted_.

When Kurapika realized this and frowned to himself, he changed his view and turned his gaze to the sky. It was bright. Two small birds chirped and hopped against the wind before soaring off in flight. He followed them with his eyes and once they were too small to see, he daydreamed.

…

They entered the train together.

Chrollo was silent walking in front of him. He didn’t interact with other travelers, although that wasn’t the entirety of Kurapika’s focus, if the man would cause a disturbance amongst other people. He didn’t think he would do a thing now, not while he had him where he wanted him. Chrollo was meek and compliant as he moved to where there were two empty seats, and Kurapika felt like a cop transporting a criminal. The man moved to the inside seat, leaving the space next to him in silence. His gaze was strictly focused out the window. Kurapika thought about moving for a fleeting second, before sitting next to him bitterly.

“Thank you,” he heard him say.

Kurapika bit his cheek and kept his real thoughts to himself.

Chrollo sought to explain himself further. “Traveling is a lot more fun when you’re with someone.”

A frustrated sound escaped him. “I’m not your friend,” he said darkly.

Chrollo actually sounded hurt. “That’s too bad.”

Kurapika nearly reeled. “You’re kidding right? Do you understand? I want to kill you,” he pressed.

“That’s true,” Chrollo commented aloud, his eyes leisurely looking out the window. Kurapika could see the way his lips curled reflected against the glass. “I admire honesty in the people I surround myself with.”

“I _hate_ you.”

His grin widened.

The man couldn’t get it. “This isn’t ‘fun’ Chrollo, I’m being quite serious.”

“Yeah, you are,” the Spider leader relaxed himself in his chair, resting his arms on the armrests and closed his eyes peacefully. He placated him and spoke his thoughts aloud. “I’m not trying to patronize your feelings, I’m being truthful in turn. I appreciate that you’re so direct with me, even if the sentiment is slightly… lacking.”

He sputtered and nearly tripped over himself. “‘Lacking’, Chrollo? Is that what you call it? Try never. Non-existent.” He huffed and sat himself up stiffly.

Chrollo cocked his head at him with a smirk that reached his eyes; a look Kurapika strictly _hated_.

“You’re lying.”

Kurapika almost beat him into the glass.

“This is what you tell yourself. But your eyes betray you, you don’t feel nothing for me.” His voice curled, smugly warm and satisfied.

“I want to _murder_ you.”

Chrollo conceded with a soft incline of his head. “That’s true. But that’s not the whole truth.”

Kurapika paused.

Chrollo closed his eyes in satisfaction.

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t talk to somebody so closed-minded, and whose only goal was strictly their revenge. That would bore me. That would be an utter waste of my time. Luckily for me, you’re not what I first thought.” The Spider leader looked so pleased.

Kurapika flamed crimson.

Just because he was open for change wasn’t an opportunity of reprieve for the Spider leader, it wasn’t a chance to take advantage. It had nothing to do with him. Just because the Kurta was seeking for something more than what he had set out to do for his clan, something like happiness… He hated that the man could see the want in his eyes, that he seeked the freedom he craved in the one sitting next to him. The thought of the possibility terrified him deeply, made him want to hate himself. Chrollo could use this information and make his life even more of a living hell, he had the power to take the few things he had away from him again. The man knew he had realized, that he’d come for some kind of closure. He had the power not to give it to him, or he could have mercy.

The concept was a sobering thought. ‘Chrollo’ and ‘mercy’ didn’t belong in the same sentence.

And Kurapika wouldn’t dare debase himself to ask. He would hate to become so needy. So human. His eyes turned red not because of the sole defining emotion but because he felt a multitude of them, constantly clashing, that’s why people comment that the shades were so beautiful. Chrollo Lucifer could read them all.

He clenched his fists tightly into his lap, averted his eyes away from the man’s close inspection.

“Everything that comes out of your mouth really pisses me off,” he growled and muttered to himself.

Chrollo shifted in his chair greatly and Kurapika tried to focus. The man’s presence was loud and magnetizing, he drew him in with his movements, the way he straightened in his seat and turned to face his right, focusing all his attention on him.

His words were filled with a soft, quiet praise. “I consider it to be an admirable trait. You surprise me. I think it’s quite impressive considering what I did to you.”

“The way you speak is seriously wrong.”

“Is it?” he sounded so innocent.

He knew the man was closely looking at him. “It’s telling of the position you see yourself in. And-” Kurapika turned away.

“What?”

“I’ve come to a conclusion about you myself.”

Chrollo looked at him with interest in his words. “And that is?”

“You’re a waste of my time,” he sniped with a bite, intending to hurt. But inside he felt empty. He felt hopeless and hurt himself in some impossible way. Kurapika didn’t expect anything from the man sitting next to him, but maybe he did despite it all, from the way his heart fell and his face deflated. “I wanted to kill you so bad. But now I see that that will do nothing.”

He looked at him miserably.

“You don’t fear. You don’t change. I could torture you and you wouldn’t even hate me.” He was so confused.

Chrollo peacefully closed his eyes. “Do you want me to hate you?” he asked softly.

“ _Yes_.” Anything.

Anything but this.

Chrollo seemed to hear him.

“You want me to feel the same way you feel. You want me to suffer. I took away your family and you stole mine,” Chrollo recounted, and Kurapika silently agreed with him. He watched the words come out of his mouth. “But I don’t hate you, Kurapika. And as I can see, neither you do me.” Grey eyes locked onto his.

Kurapika froze.

He closed his eyes and he _shuddered_. He inhaled through his nose suddenly, too quickly, swallowing in the air until it swelled his lungs, feeling like it was pushing against all his other organs and slowing his heart. He panicked, stilled, tried to repeat the motion but it felt like he was trapped in his chair, claustrophobic and hammered on all sides by the seat next to him. The realization was coming slowly but surely and he couldn’t stop it from happening. He was terrified in his seat, shaking. He wanted it to be the anger.

Chrollo, he – _god_ – he saw him, he actually tried to comfort him.

“Hey.” The Spider leader nudged his knee against his, shifting himself closer, his body getting warm along his side. He placed a hand on his thigh as if to learn of his shivers, the palm large and hot around him as if to hold him still and in place. Kurapika didn’t tear his fucking arm off. His sight was wide and frozen and unseeing, only processing of the gray seat in front of them, the foldable table locked away in position, and Chrollo, his hand, the feel of his sheer, _stupid_ boldness. He had his confidence with his hand stabilizing him, grounding Kurapika back to earth. He didn’t want to need this.

Chrollo gave him a squeeze.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. Better off than most,” his voice was cruelly gentle.

“Chrollo, _stop_ ,” he warned.

“This is natural, a way to cope and survive. I don’t think anyone can hate for so long.”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Change isn’t a bad thing. Although, I don’t see it as change. I realize that this is just who you are. You were right, you and I could never be the same. You were born kind.”

Kurapika couldn’t breathe.

“I… I still don’t like you,” he finished lamely.

“Mm,” Chrollo hummed into his ear next to him, thumbing at his knee idly. Kurapika shivered at the rhythmic touch, soft and rubbing in circles. The Kurta shifted slightly, he was about to tell the man to get his hand off of him before he spoke. “That’s too bad,” he murmured.

When Kurapika turned to his voice, he learned the hard way that Chrollo was freakishly right in front of his face. He started; his heart skipped miles.

“I do.”

Kurapika couldn’t think straight. His sudden confusion was palpable.

“I lied earlier. I think it’s a shame that circumstances have lead us to this. But I don’t mind your company.”

“‘Company’…” he silently mouthed to himself. His face was dazed.

And Chrollo confirmed his words with another _squeeze_. He removed his hand from him and fully returned to his seat, laying an arm against the window ledge, the other along the divider between them. His eyes warmed onto him, beckoning for his attention before implying he should follow his gaze to the window. Kurapika saw as the trees blew by swiftly, too fast for him to catch any detail, before they found themselves out of the dimly lit forest. The trees cleared just as quickly as they’ve come to expose an expanse, revealing the full scope of a mountain range right beside them.

His breath caught at all the blues and greens. Chrollo could hear him and he smiled.

“I hope to enjoy this interlude and I wish for you the same,” he said genuinely.

Kurapika looked to him.

But Chrollo wasn’t paying him any attention. He was enjoying the scenery beyond the window. The picture he made peacefully looking out from his seat and the view out _there_ – Kurapika never wanted for so much.

…

“So. On the question of your clan’s ancestral belief system… I was curious.” Chrollo leaned into him.

Kurapika blinked.

On the one hand he was offended. His clan wasn’t for Chrollo to know more of, to see into or read into, because the man had taken more than enough. His clan wasn’t something to satisfy his curiosity with. They were more than just facts of their way of life before their extinction. To him, it was a truth, something alive and present, so long as he was still around to believe in it. He was the only one left, to maintain the tradition.

“What.” he threatened him to tread carefully, respectfully.

“Did you bury him?” he asked.

Kurapika blinked again.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Uvogin. Uvo. Number 11, as he must have showed you.” Chrollo smiled proudly at the thought of it, of how their fight must’ve went down.

Kurapika’s face immediately curled in disgust. “Yes. I’m not profane like you.”

And Chrollo _laughed_.

He barked a sharp, undeniable sound that made him stiffen in his chair from shock. The man’s black hair fell in his eyes and at first Kurapika thought he was crying, his shoulders were shaking minutely. It wasn’t long before he heard a growing chuckle, Chrollo whose laughter had lifted his head, showing the pure joy on his face. His eyes were bright and shining as the air huffed out of his nose in rich humor. His lips were curled; soft.

Kurapika was absolutely pissed.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you or your clan’s beliefs. I’m just… so happy,” his voice was filled with warmth.

Kurapika didn’t think that what he said was oh so funny and he didn’t know how to make the man stop. It was weird to hear him laugh so genuinely, something he didn’t want to see on his worst mortal enemy.

His brow twitched and struggled, disgusted and conflicted despite himself. He grumbled. “You’re so happy over a grave? Is death really that amusing to you?”

“No,” Chrollo huffed in lingering humor, still amused. His lips curled softly upon his face. “I prefer the living because sometimes they really surprise me,” he said knowingly, looking at his eyes.

Chrollo continued.

“Thank you, Kurapika. For burying him.”

The Kurta frowned.

“Please, don’t get mad, I meant it. Aside from Bono maybe… no Spider has held any close family, friendly, or religious-cultural ties outside of my Spider itself. We don’t uphold much in the way of tradition, but we do like to keep some sort of remembrance. For the show and ceremony of it all, though none of us take it that serious. The day is pretty much the same where we still play cards and chat idly. Coming from you, from your hands…” he trailed off, lost in thought. His eyes went casually to the ceiling. “Maybe it’ll mean something and that he’ll be going to a better place than the rest of us. That would be nice, I was thinking.” Chrollo smiled to himself at the thought.

The man was as mischievous as he was thoughtful and a quick grin flashed brightly at him, though Kurapika didn’t see how death could be in any way funny.

“Would you bury me too? Could you be so kind and forgiving?” he teased.

Kurapika snapped.

“Don’t you start making fun of me! Death isn’t funny,” he scolded, glaring strongly down at the man before he realized. His face fell despite himself. Kurapika was upset because this wasn’t a joke. He had buried the man so much as for himself as it was for this Uvogin character. He hated the feeling of blood, bright red and wet, the way it dried sticky hot on his hands like incrimination, the slip of it, the way it dribbled thickly. The sound of punching him was forever burned in his ears, the squish and give of his flesh sinking sickly – no, _wrongly_ in response to his enhanced strength. Kurapika hated the smell of blood, the metallic taste in the air, in his oxygen, and the way he could hear the man’s heart beat until the last moment, feel it _stop-_

But Chrollo hadn’t seen of their fight. He couldn’t fully understand his turmoil, his predicament.

“You’re offense over my hypothetical death is sweet, I suppose.”

Kurapika quickly narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I believe anyone’s death isn’t something to take lightly,” his tone brook no arguments.

“Even if I was the one that killed your clan?”

Kurapika hitched in his breath.

“I’m not forgiving you of your sins. I could never,” he breathed shakily.

Chrollo was intrigued.

“Hm. Then why do it?” he asked aloud mildly, and his stance was unbothered and casual. He had no qualms with the topic of conversation. “You didn’t have to whatsoever, especially if you hated us. He mauled your clan’s corpses. You had no reason to signify his. No one was watching. Uvo was dead and it was all the same,” he wondered.

Kurapika flared.

“Don’t you start that again, that’s enough from you! _I_ was watching! I was the one that killed him and burying him was my responsibility! I know I don’t owe a damn thing to you people but I owe it to myself so not to fall as low as you before I’m done,” he threatened, eyes colored bright. Chrollo returned his look coolly and waited.

Kurapika suddenly faltered.

“... I don’t know anymore, okay?” He settled back into his seat again, but he couldn’t face Chrollo at the moment. His gaze fell off to the side, averted, feeling small and unconfident. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He fumbled with them, they felt thick and clumsy without his chain rings, the same ones he used to kill them with. He had already started however, and he figured he might as well finish honest. “I get so dizzy and heady from the scent of blood that I become confused. I don’t know what’s up or down anymore. What’s right or wrong. I don’t have a reason. I know that I’m being a hypocrite but I don’t have an answer,” he spoke quietly.

Chrollo smiled softly at him.

“You’re more rare than I thought.”

 “!”

“You’re truly one of kind. Not a lot of people would bury their family’s killers, much less after what we’ve done in stealing the eyes.”

His flashed red. “You sick bastard-”

The man smoothly interrupted him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to trouble you. I just meant that it’s a surprise for us, that’s all,” Chrollo said lightly, his face relaxed and peaceful. Kurapika could see the nostalgic memories flicker through the light in his eyes. “Uvo would’ve liked that, you know, he would’ve found it funny. Most of my Spiders would have found it hilarious, if that says anything about ourselves. I meant that you’re more genuine than I thought.”

Kurapika faltered a little, confused and uncertain. He didn’t know what to respond.

Chrollo could easily read his face. The man inclined his head softly. “It’s okay you know, I was just teasing you. If you do manage to get me you can leave me for the vultures, I wouldn’t mind.”

Kurapika’s voice was upset. “How can you say things like that?”

_How can you-_

He was so confused. His face fell, somehow deeply hurt.

“Because.” Chrollo looked off in thought reminiscently. The man was at peace. Kurapika looked at him. “I wouldn’t mind so much if it was you. If it was by your hand… that doesn’t sound so bad.”

…


	8. Chapter 8

Kurapika wanted.

When he stopped to think about it, about why he came here, why he stayed even after learning Chrollo was unchangeable… he still wanted. He wanted something decisive all the same: he wanted to finally be free.

Kurapika looked to the other man sleeping lightly beside him, head rested against the window and face soft and lax. Chrollo was so young. His hair was scrunched up against the glass but the dark strands were thick and soft-looking, pliant to the touch. He didn’t make for much of a mass murderer, he looked too young to do such a thing. He looked like a recent college graduate. The man was clearly driven, sure, charming, intelligent, easily made for great things… but he didn’t appear as someone who would allocate all his talents to become a lowly thief. He looked to be above that. It was real shame. Kurapika knew by now that the man beside him was childish beyond compare, ironically innocent, if the way he approached death was to be accounted for. He wasn’t what he first thought when he imagined his clan’s killer. He wasn’t so… malicious. What the Spider had done to his clan didn’t even matter for him anymore, Chrollo didn’t even remember the event so closely, to him it wasn’t anything special.

And Kurapika had no idea how to face himself with that.

He had no counter. He hadn’t even considered it. He had this image that Chrollo was this evil villain from his nightmares only to find that the man was close enough to his age, must’ve been when he completed the terrible act. Chrollo Lucifer was from a place like Ryuusegai, to add. Not that that excused him, nothing could, but it added to the complexity, only making him more confused.

He had no clue what to do.

All Kurapika knew was what he dreamed of. Desperately. He remembered Chrollo’s line about the freedom he got from the removal of his nen, the opportunity to finally focus on his clan’s eyes. Even if the thought of absolution was tainted by the man, Kurapika still wanted of the same, now thought of it obsessively.

He didn’t wish to have his world revolve around the other man anymore. Chrollo already took too much. If there was anything he wanted, it was something for himself, something the Spider leader couldn’t take.

Kurapika’s eyes followed along those dark strands, falling onto a peaceful, handsome face. He… he wanted a decision made, he thought. He knew it vague to say aloud in his head, and he berated himself that it got him nowhere, that the words felt slightly stupid. But he couldn’t think of anything else. Kurapika wished for no more mistakes, and the flash of Gon and Killua captured by the Troupe came to mind.

No. Kurapika wished for something more. He allowed himself to stare at the other man to his quiet content, observing him in full as much as he could without having to explain anything… so that he could learn to understand. Kurapika felt the emotion swirl and swell bright within him.

If he ever had the luxury to look back, all he wanted was of no regret.

Kurapika watched when Chrollo stirred softly and knew that he was asking for too much.

…

“Did they suffer?” he heard himself ask. The man had come back with a paper tray of train food, complete with a cup of coffee; for him. He didn’t particularly want to know the answer, he knew he was picking a fight somewhere in the back of his mind… but he needed it, he needed to know if he was ever able to move on. He could see Chrollo think the same thoughts he was thinking, watching him, looking down at him carefully.

Chrollo Lucifer, however, never cared. He never hesitated at the threat of someone else becoming hurt from his actions. Kurapika capitalized on that fact, utilized it currently.

Chrollo wouldn’t blunt his words.

The man didn’t even react to the serious question he challenged him with, despite it being out of the blue.

“Yes.”

Kurapika thought he could feel his blood freeze. He already knew the answer to the question he was asking, but hearing it, from a man like Chrollo, hearing the words so honest and blankly given and calm unwavering… the chill crept along his bones like a spider, etching a familiar reality into his mind.

This man was the same man from his nightmares.

Kurapika didn’t know how he was so muted. How he let Chrollo move past him, return to his seat. How he placidly accepted the cup that was for him, and watched as he set up a table for himself.

“But only enough to turn their eyes red,” Chrollo added lightly, conversationally. “It didn’t take much. You are a sensitive people.”

 _Holy shit,_ he thought quietly.

He stared at the man in complete, novel horror.

Before he could react, the man continued.

Chrollo commented softly, a quiet awe in his voice. “I always thought that that was a good thing. Admirable. I didn’t think such beautiful humans exist.”

Honest to god, Kurapika tried to roll with it. He tried not to get mad. His words struggled to leave him in a controlled manner; inside, he was _screaming_. “And what are you… not-human?” he forced out the question.

Chrollo smirked as if he knew of his little difficulty.

“Maybe.”

He hated him.

The Spider leader leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes in thought, swept in the memory. Kurapika felt personally it was a bit too morbid to be reminiscing of his _clan’s_ _massacre_ while so peaceful looking. Chrollo added; for context. “They had defended until their last breaths. They didn’t run or betray one another. You truly were a warrior race. It was commendable; beautiful.”

He really shouldn’t have asked.

“You think the tragedy of it all makes the eyes more valuable,” his voice was thin ice.

He didn’t know why he opened his mouth. He shouldn’t have continued this doomed trash of a conversation.

Chrollo smiled at him proudly, warmly.

“But it does,” he said, the light clear in his voice. Chrollo was focused on his hands, he unwrapped his food. “You think people don’t know the story of what happened? It isn’t the color that they want. It’s the idea,” he explained.

Kurapika frowned, deeply.

“Is that why you take things?” was all that he could feasibly come up with.

Chrollo opened his eyes to look at him. When he saw his face he shrugged.

“Hm. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think you should be giving me the credit. I don’t really care all that much; I’m not that deep.”

_I hate him._

Chrollo chuckled at the raw disgust in his face and Kurapika glowered.

He explained further, totally unprompted.

“The Spider takes. We don’t care about price.” Chrollo said with meaning.

He tried to maintain control of the conversation. He sniped at the man because he had _no idea how to respond._ “So I was right. You’re a kleptomaniac.”

_Get some help._

Chrollo's lips twitched like he could read his mind. “If you want to see us like that, it’s your choice.”

Choice?

He turned the foreign concept over in his mind.

There was no damn choice, he concluded. The Spider leader was just lying to him. Kurapika waited for the man to explain.

At the pause, Chrollo smiled.

His smile fell a little, lost in memory.

“No one does it for the fame or the money, Kurapika,” he said.

The boy breathed in air shallowly. At his words, he felt the shift. He watched him speak while the rest of the world faded away into the background, disappearing out of the back corners of his eyes forever. Kurapika didn’t dare interrupt him now.

“We don’t care about those things,” Chrollo softly explained.

A growing dread sunk into his limbs like death. Kurapika tried to turn to the man, to face his words but found that he couldn’t move a thing, so raptured was he looking at Chrollo’s face.

“ _Kurapika_ ,” his name was rich off his lips. Chrollo laughed, his laugh was bright and warm and beautiful – the sound tinged with a small sadness. “I arbitrarily chose stealing.”

His mind went white.

“I admit, it could have been any number of things. I’m sure you already know of our philanthropic work, don’t you?”

He could almost shout.

“Then why?!” he screamed. “Why do it?!” Kurapika surged from his seat. He didn’t care anymore, he didn’t care if this whole train heard him. Chrollo was silent in the face of his emotion. “You don’t even need the money!” his eyes widened onto the man; his voice broke. His face was clear glass.

He could almost cry.

Chrollo didn't respond.

"Answer me!"

The Spider leader’s voice was calm. “No, we don’t. Most of us are from Ryuusegai; we don’t even know what money is.”

Kurapika flinched hard.

“So many people died because of you! God, Chrollo, just tell me! Why steal if you don’t even want the things that you take? Please, my clan, they-” he was crying.

Kurapika blinked, and the water ran, flowing. He couldn't stop it. He raised trembling hands towards himself, towards his face, frozen at what was happening, what he was doing, and why he couldn't _stop_.

He had begged so shamefully. At the look of his face, Chrollo took mercy on him.

The man started.

“My Spiders will follow me into the pits of hell,” he began slow like it was a tale, an old legend he was telling. Chrollo smiled, proud at the memory. His eyes were closed, recalling the things they’ve done and swept in the pure unadulterated feeling. “If I say jump they don’t ask how high; they soar. The great things that we did together… was stronger than any bond we’ve ever had. The more we killed the deeper those familial bonds went until we reached heights we could never have alone. We were on top of the world. Unstoppable. In the thick of the act, we felt most alive,” his face was alight.

Chrollo recounted.

“People from Ryuusegai are forgotten. Seen as expendable. We were told to disappear. That's why... I wanted to create something that would last forever. I wanted to make our mark on history. Even if that meant that to confirm our existence we had to take those of others, like your clan. No one could take from us.”

The Spider leader had shrugged coolly at the end. Mortified, Kurapika met his gaze reflected against the glass. “It’s nothing personal against you,” he said. “We didn’t want your eyes. Only the act of stealing is what matters.”

…

They had reached their destination. Leaving the cramped seating of the train into the outside air felt like a kind of freedom itself, filled him with a certain relief, maybe for the both of them. Chrollo seemed to read of his enthusiasm to get out of close quarters with him, and he smiled in small amusement at his brisk exit. The man walked behind more casually. They had left off in the town nearest to York New, specifically the stop prior. To get to the city they would have to cross over the rocky canyon in between the two places by foot or by blimp, if they were to actually get there, even though the train itself had a final destination for York New downtown station. But Chrollo desired to exit a stop early. Kurapika glared at him, suspicious.

He didn’t forget the words that the man said. He just didn’t have the words to respond, only to accept and realize the truth that Chrollo and his Spiders were deeply unfixable. It would have been simpler if he was greedy. It would've been easier if Chrollo was plain selfish. But that was too kind for him, the gods would never allow him that. Kurapika could never get such a straightforward answer. He wasn’t moved in the slightest hearing his reasons, and he wasn’t impressed. The horror had settled beneath his skin until it became familiar, he refused to give the man the satisfaction of his reaction. They would get nowhere with that.

When Chrollo dictated where they would go, he followed.

The walk there was long. Quiet. Hot. The sun had been beating down on them even though it was the midst of autumn, though he figured they were on the west coast of the country and the seasons were different here. Drier. More miserable. Kurapika was growing steadily pissed that Chrollo didn’t want to take some form of transportation, did he really think to walk to York New? Why didn’t they stay on the train? They were so far from the town behind them. Before he could voice his upset, Chrollo offered.

“You know…” he started slowly, conversationally. Kurapika already knew the next words to come out of his mouth were going to piss him off. “When I get my nen back I want you to know that I’ll miss you after this.”

He figured that the man was joking lightly with him. He thinks… he was possibly attempting to bridge the gap that he made. Kurapika took the hand reached out to him because he was tired of fighting, tired of being angry. He wanted to be free.

“Hmph,” he harked back, rolling his eyes even though the man couldn’t see it. “You’ll have your large ego with you for company.”

Chrollo gave him a quick side glance.

“Will you continue to pursue me? I won’t mind.”

“I’m not here for your entertainment,” he growled.

“Oh, of course,” his words were warm and amused. He could feel all of his attention on him.

Kurapika got pissed.

He knew the man was checking him out. “Would you stop it already? I’m not joining your damn Spider.”

Chrollo quickly glanced away. “Is that so?” he asked innocently, his focus was on the distance in front of them.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kurapika turned to glare at him. “So stop looking so smug with yourself, it’s disgusting.”

The side of Chrollo’s lips turned up.

“I mean it.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“Fuck you.”

“I think you’d make a perfect addition to my team. You’re smart. You’re quite capable.”

“Was that the best pitch you could come up with?”

“I was being honest,” he shrugged, not looking at him.

There was still that damn smile on his face.

“No.”

Chrollo shrugged his shoulders again. “My loss,” he conceded good-naturedly.

Kurapika chose to ignore it.

He shook his head of it because he needed to focus onward. He stated anew, out in the open.

“I’ve got more important things to do than to follow you,” Kurapika spoke aloud.

He made a few steps forward before he stopped, processing his current statement. He froze. Chrollo didn’t see him. It wasn’t until the man passed a few paces in front of him before he too stopped, noticing of his sudden stillness. The man turned around and blinked. When he saw his face, he softly inclined his head. But Kurapika wasn’t paying any attention to his actions.

Chrollo took a glance along the surroundings around them and then nodded, satisfied.

He smirked to himself. “Oh?” he prompted him for more.

But Kurapika wasn’t paying attention to his face. He was so focused, so compelled, his sight unseeing.

“Even if they’re dead, I’m loyal to my clan,” he pressed further.

He wanted the man to know that. He wanted the man to understand this fact.

Kurapika thought that now he was getting somewhere, getting closer, getting warmer, touching onto something just inches beyond him. It was swelling him with a feeling, driving him a step back under a wash of pure light. Something very important. He felt so close. Chrollo didn’t interrupt his realization.

In fact, the man smiled, so gently, so warmly.

“I know.”

Kurapika wanted to tell him. “I’m going to collect the eyes. I’m going to collect every last pair that you’ve scattered all over this earth. And when I’m done I’m going to bury them properly like they deserve.” His were red now.

Chrollo was so happy. His voice absolutely _curled_. “And me?” he asked. “And my Troupe?” his voice was full of warmth and happiness.

Kurapika didn’t need to think about it. “As for you, I won’t pursue you anymore.” At his words, Chrollo _shivered_. “I’m letting you go. I won’t follow you any longer, not when I can search for the eyes. I won’t be a slave to my revenge – to you. I love my clan more than I hate you,” he realized.

It was beautiful.

Once he was done, his body slumped and curled inward, finished.

Chrollo sighed in pleasure.

His body seemed to breathe totally in relief.

“Thank you,” he said.

Kurapika stilled.

The Kurta felt the change in the air, in the winds as they turned against his direction; suddenly, he felt like he made a big mistake.

But he wouldn’t take it back. No; he shook his head, Kurapika could move on. He would never have to kill again. He could choose to love, not hate. The clarity showered along his skin until he felt it thrill up his spine, like a bloom of warmth it was so wonderful that the first time in years his mind was clear of the pressure. He felt lighter, buoyant, and taller on his feet. He couldn’t deny the pure joy filling him up inside until it showed relief in his face; he was free.

Chrollo turned his hands over themselves, watching them like they belonged to someone else, like they were something new. Then he smiled. He took a deep breath and exhaled again, closing his eyes. He straightened his back, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck loudly from both sides. Chrollo finished his stretching before focusing his eyes on him, his gaze greatly amused. Before Kurapika could ask what, the man snapped his fingers and in his hands activated his hatsu.

His book, Bandit's Secret, appeared. The thing flew open, flipping its pages wildly on its own.

Chrollo shut the nen construct closed, satisfied with everything in working order.

“That was the last condition I needed, Kurapika. I appreciate your words.”

His eyes widened red.

Chrollo gazed at him with _fondness_.

“Since you’re no longer hostile towards me anymore, I’ll do you the same. I won’t kill you. Not that I want to, I don’t want to fight you either. I meant what I said. I hope that one day we can be friends.”

What the-

He was so shocked he didn’t think to attack him.

No… It wasn’t that. He didn’t want to either. Not after he had downright told the man he would no longer take his revenge.

Stumbled, Kurapika was so lost in thought he didn’t see the man come closer to him.

When he looked up, his eyes widened with fear; he backed a step only for the man to smile.

Chrollo was genuine. “I’m happy for you,” his words were gentle.

Kurapika felt the spite swirl viciously in his veins, like a drug cut in with the joy. The sheer elation tempered his violence, made his eyes go red and not-red, had him backing another step, his hands twitching unsure what to do with themselves.

He was so happy, so confused. Chrollo didn’t give him the time to stop and think.

“You can finally move on.” He tried to convince him. “You’ve got to collect your clan’s eyes and I’ve got to meet my Spiders. We can both get what we want,” he murmured. His body drew nearer and hotter, only breaths away to tempt him forward, for the Kurta to meet him, to accept. His words aired faintly against his skin, Kurapika gasped at the proximity, while the tingle made his legs tremble.

Suddenly, Kurapika feared him.

“But the offer is still on the table… for you,” Chrollo gazed at him tenderly. His voice was rich with warmth. “It’s yours. But since you’ve got a goal of your own, I guess this is where we part ways.” The man looked away from him to the rocky canyons around them.

Kurapika couldn’t speak.

“I truly hope you achieve happiness,” Chrollo spoke quietly, before turning to look at him. When he saw his face, he was _smiling_.

And Kurapika tried. He tried to find the anger in him to burst at Chrollo’s words, he tried to find himself. He searched and he searched for the things he had clutched so tightly to his chest until they became familiar, until they melded into his organs only to find that the old friend of his revenge had finally slipped through his hands like grains of sand. He had gained something so beautiful... but he had lost something so dear. He panicked, terrified of the man, terrified of all his new, turbulent feelings. Chrollo seemed to read of all of him from his face, the man smiled even brighter.

“I hope that one day you will be at peace,” he told him last.

Kurapika watched the man leave. He was silent all the while, all but the water that ran down his face, perpetually confused. His brows furrowed even as the canyon grew empty and his heart beat even, conflicted, one side clearly winning over the other.

He had got what he wanted.

….

“Danchou!”

Everyone sung of his name.

Chrollo smiled.

It felt like he was finally home.

When he looked and found no sign of Paku, his spiders seemed to read of his questioning silence.

Shalnark broke the news.

He told the story of what had happened between him and the chain user, Nobunaga growing more and more excited.

They wanted to kill him. Feitan twirled his umbrella, Nobu itched his hands over his swords, Phinks wound his right arm once, grinning. Now that he was free, they wanted to eliminate him as threat. Permanently. Chrollo could see the way they thirsted for his next orders, pacing beside themselves for the one word that would set them free like an army bored of marching, attack dogs bursting out of a cage. He thought about the idea momentarily, idly.

“We won’t be pursuing the chain user,” he said.

Nobu was notably upset. He’d have to think of something for him later.

Shizuku was the only one who asked why.

Chrollo told them.

“Paku died of her own volition,” he started slowly, thinking of the way she had faced him at the defining moment, her eyes full of worry over her own betrayal. She looked at him as she completed the act. In the end, Chrollo couldn’t hate her, her face was the last thing he saw. “She did it for the spider. I want to honor her choice and thank her for the actions she took spared my life. She could have simply waited. But she died for us, as well as for me.” Most of them nodded and dropped it immediately.

He could see the hurt present in Nobu’s eyes. The confusion, confliction. He felt the same, not too long ago.

“Uvo… He seeked a fight out with Kurapika intentionally, did he not? Nobu.”

The samurai man slightly faltered.

Chrollo looked up at the broken ceiling thoughtfully. “If you want to blame the chain user for defending himself and succeeding, you are free to do so,” he watched his spider carefully.

Nobu flitted his eyes across his face, possibly checking if his leader was under manipulation. Chrollo didn’t mind. He let his spiders inspect him for themselves, come to their own conclusions. He would never force it.

When Nobu was too upset to speak, Chrollo admitted quietly. “I’ve got no grudge against him. And I know he no longer holds one against me,” he added importantly.

When Nobu’s eyebrows furrowed, not in the least moved but they could hear the awe and honesty in his voice because they knew him most, he continued.

“He won’t hurt any of you,” they quickly noticed of his exclusion. He was proud, moved and uncaring all the same. He was so happy. “So long as he keeps to that condition, I am content,” he smiled, and no one could protest.

Chrollo closed his eyes to the sound of Nobu grumbling, stomping off to a far corner, probably both grieving and feeling absolutely elated for his return at the same time. Shalnark chirped up immediately, merrily telling him of the things they did while he was gone. Machi nodded at him, brisk and professional, in the way he knew she was checking him for injuries before returning to her magazine. Shizuku wandered off on her own quietly. Feitan and Phinks decided to play cards, challenging Franklin, who hummed his agreement in a deep, old voice. Koltopi chose to sit next to him, playing with his toys. Bono didn’t move.

He was home.

…

_We reject no one,_

_so take nothing from us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I could finish something for this fandom.
> 
> This fic is technically due for a sequel but I lowkey don't trust my discipline updating (lol) so I wanted to end it here so you all have something conclusive to enjoy without worry. I will be writing more KuroKura for this fandom but I just wanted to say thank you for making it this far, I was really excited to share this story:)
> 
> Also, the three really obscure, ~~only there for the plot~~ conditions are:
> 
> 1) Kurapika has to come to him of his own volition.
> 
> 2) Kurapika has to "let him go" of his own volition (and this is where Chrollo has taken certain interpretive liberties.)
> 
> 3) He has to do so within range of the place where he had first cemented his judgement chain.


End file.
